Harry and Scarlet Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
by little-miss-fire-starter
Summary: So we all know Harry is awesome and special. So, let's throw in a twin sister and see where this goes? You know the deal, best friends, close-via-siblingship-, and definitely in for some major trouble during their first year at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Let's just see what all that trouble actually is, shall we?
1. The Twins Who Lived

_**Hey everybody! Happy Thanksgiving! Erm, I guess this story is back?**_

_**I did say thanksgiving right?**_

_**Well, this is just the beginning. I'll be updating soon. Anybody wanna tell me about their TG? Mine was a total bust, but hey! At least I had my writing and my One Direction music to keep me going! Hope you enjoy the story, and I hope you review.**_

_**Okay, I'll stop typing now and saying what I'm typing in my head.**_

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><p><strong><span>The Potter Twins and the Sorcerer's Stone<span>**

**The Twins Who Lived**

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><p>Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that there were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you'd except to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just don't hold with such nonsense.<p>

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors.

The Dursley also had a small son called Dudley and their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere. The Dursley had everything they wanted, but they also had a secret, and their greatest fear was that somebody would discover it. They didn't think they could bear it if anyone found out about the Potters.

Mrs. Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, but they hadn't met for several years; in fact, Mrs. Dursley pretended she didn't have a sister, because her sister and her good-for-nothing husband were as unDursleyish as it was possible to be.

The Dursleys shuddered to think what the neighbors would say if the Potters arrived in the street.

The Dursleys knew that the Potters had a small set of twins, too. A son and daughter, but they had never even seen them. Those two were another good reason for keeping the Potters away; they didn't want Dudley mixing with children like that.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dursley woke up on the dull, gray Tuesday our story starts, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr. Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work, and Mrs. Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his high chair.

None of them noticed a large, tawny owl flutter past the window.

At half past eight, Mr. Dursley picked up his briefcase, pecked Mrs. Dursley on the cheek, and tried to kiss Dudley good-bye but missed, because Dudley was now having a tantrum and throwing his cereal at the walls.

"Little tyke," chortled Mr. Dursley as he left the house. He got into his car and backed out of number four's drive. It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map.

For a second, Mr. Dursley didn't realize what he had seen - then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light. Mr. Dursley blinked and stared at the cat. It stared back. As Mr. Dursley drove around the corner and up the road, he watched the cat in his mirror. It was now standing by the sign that said Privet Drive - no, _looking _at the sign; cats couldn't read maps _or_ signs.

Mr. Dursley gave himself a little shake and put that cat out of his mind. As he drove towards town he thought of nothing except a large order of drills he was hoping to get that today.

But on the edge of town, drills were driven out of his mind by something else. As he sat in the usual morning traffic jam, he couldn't help but noticing that there seemed to be a lot of strangely dressed people about. People in cloaks.

Mr. Dursley couldn't bear people who dressed in funny clothes - the getup's you saw on young people! He supposed this was some stupid new fashion. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and his eyes fell on a huddle of those weirdo's standing quite close by. They were whispering excitedly together. Mr. Dursley was enraged to see that couple of them weren't young at all; why, that man had to be older then he was, and wearing an emerald-green cloak! The nerve of him! But then it struck Mr. Dursley that this was probably some silly stunt - these people were obviously collecting for something... yes, that would be it.

The traffic moved on and a few minutes later, Mr. Dursley arrived in the Grunnings parking lot, his mind back on drills.

Mr. Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. _He_ didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the street did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead.

Most of them had never seen an owl even at nighttime. Mr. Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning. He yelled at five different people. He made several important calls and shouted a bit more.

He was in a very good mood until lunchtime, when he thought he'd stretch his legs and walk across the road to buy himself a bun from the bakery.

He'd forgotten all about the people in cloaks until he passed a group of them next to the baker's. He eyed them angrily as he passed. He didn't know why, but they made him uneasy. This bunch were whispering excitedly, too, and he couldn't see a single collecting tin. It was on his way back past them, clutching a large doughnut in a bag, that he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard -"

"- yes, their son, Harry -"

"- his sister Scarlet too!"

Mr. Dursley stopped dead.

Fear flooded him. He looked back at the whispering as if he wanted to say something to them, but thought better of it. He dashed back across the road, hurried up to his office, snapped at his secretary not to disturb him, seized his telephone, and had almost finished dialing his home number when he changed his mind. He put the receiver back down and stroked his mustache, thinking... no, he was being stupid.

Potter wasn't such an unusual name.

He was sure there were lots of people called Potter who had a son called Harry and a daughter called Scarlet. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his nephew _was_ called Harry, and he figured his in laws had enough sense not to name his niece a color.

He'd never even seen the twins. It might have been Harvey. Or Serena.

There was no point in worrying Mrs. Dursley, she always got so upset at any mention of her sister. He didn't blame her - if _he'd_ had a sister like that... but all the same, those people in cloaks...

He found it a lot harder to concentrate on drills that afternoon and when he left the building at five o'clock, he was still so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door. "Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr. Dursley realized that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground.

On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passerby stare, "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!" And the old man hugged Mr. Dursley around the middle and walked off.

Mr. Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off for home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

As he pulled into the driveway of number four, the first thing he saw - and it didn't improve his mood - was the tabby cat he'd spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his garden wall. He was sure it was the same one; it had the same markings around its eyes.

"Shoo!" said Mr. Dursley loudly.

The cat didn't move. It just gave him a stern look.

Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Dursley wondered. Trying to pull himself together, he let himself into the house. He was still determined not to mention anything to his wife.

Mrs. Dursley had had a nice, normal day. She told him over dinner all about Mrs. Next Door's problems with her daughter and how Dudley had learned a new word ("Won't!"). Mr. Dursley tried to act normally. When Dudley had been put to bed, he went into the living room in time to catch the last report on the evening news:

"_And finally, bird-watchers everywhere have reported that the nation's owls have been behaving very unusually today. Although owls normally hunt at night and hardly ever seen in daylight, there have been hundreds of sightings of these birds flying in every direction since sunrise. Experts are unable to explain why the owls have suddenly changed their sleeping pattern." The newscaster allowed himself a grin. "Most mysterious. And now, over to Jim McGuffin with the weather. Going to be any more showers of owls tonight, Jim?"_

"_Well, Ted," said the weatherman, "I don't know about that, but it's not only the owls that have been acting oddly today. Viewers as far apart as Kent, Yorkshire, and Dundee have been phoning in to tell me that instead of rain I promised yesterday, they've had a downpour of shooting stars! Perhaps people have been celebrating Bonfire Night early - it's not until next week, folks! But I can promise a wet night tonight."_

Mr. Dursley sat frozen in his armchair. Shooting stars all over Britain? Owls flying by daylight? Mysterious people in cloaks all over the place? And a whisper about the Potters...

Mrs. Dursley came into the living room carrying two cups of tea. It was no good. He'd have to say something to her. He cleared his throat nervously. "Er - Petunia, dear - you haven't heard from your sister lately, have you?"

As he expected, Mrs. Dursley looked shocked and angry. After all, they normally pretended she didn't have a sister.

"No," she said sharply. "Why?"

"Funny stuff on the news," Mr. Dursley mumbled. "Owls... shooting stars... and there were a lot of funny-looking people in town today..."

"_So?" _snapped Mrs. Dursley.

"Well, I just thought... maybe... it was something to do with... _her_ crowd."

Mrs. Dursley sipped her tea through pursed lips. Mr. Dursley wondered whether he dared tell her he'd heard the name "Potter." He decided he didn't dare. Instead he said, as casually as he could, "Their twins - they'd be about Dudley's age now, wouldn't they?"

"I suppose so," said Mrs. Dursley stiffly.

"What're their names again? Howard and Selene, isn't it?"

"Harry and Scarlet. Nasty, common name for a boy, if you ask me. My sister names the girl after a color as she is just so foolish!"

"Oh, yes," said Mr. Dursley, his heart sinking horribly. "Yes, I quite agree."

He didn't say another word on the subject as they went upstairs to bed. While Mrs. Dursley was in the bathroom, Mr. Dursley crept to the bedroom window and peered down into the front garden. The cat was still there. It was staring down Privet Drive as though it were waiting for something.

Was he imagining things? Could all this have anything to do with the Potters? If it did... if it got out that they were related to a pair of - well, he didn't think he could bear it.

The Dursley got into bed. Mrs. Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr. Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. His last comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even the Potters _were_ involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs. Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind... He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on - he yawed and turned over - it couldn't affect _them_...

How very wrong he was.

Mr. Dursley might have been drifting into an uneasy sleep, but the cat on the wall outside was showing no sign of sleepiness. It was sitting as still as a statue, its eyes fixed unblinkingly on the far corner of Privet Drive. It didn't so much as quiver when a car door slammed on the next street, nor when two owls swooped overhead. In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all.

A man appeared on the corner the cat had been watching, appeared so suddenly and silently you'd have thought he'd just popped out of the ground. The cat's tail twitched and its eyes narrowed.

Nothing like this man had ever been seen on Privet Drive. He was a tall, thin, and very old, judging by the silver of his hair and bread, which were both long enough to tuck into his belt. He was wearing long robes, a purple cloak that swept the ground, and high-heeled, buckled boots. His blue eyes were light, bright, and sparkling behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked, as though it had been broken at least twice. This man's name was Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore didn't seem to realize that he had just arrived in a street where everything from his name to his boots was unwelcome. He was busy rummaging in his cloak, looking for something. But he did seem to realize he was being watched, because he looked up suddenly at the cat, which was still staring at him from the other end of the street. For some reason, the sight of the cat seemed to amuse him. He chuckled and muttered, "I should have known."

He found what he was looking for in his inside pocket. It seemed to be a silver cigarette lighter. He flicked it opened, held it up in the air, and clicked it. The nearest street lamp went out with a little pop.

He clicked it again - the next lamp flickered into darkness. Twelve times he clicked the put-outer, until the only lights left on the whole street were two tiny pinpricks in the distance, which were the eyes of the cat watching him.

If anyone looked out their window now, even beady-eyed Mrs. Dursley, they wouldn't be able to see anything that was happening down on the pavement. Dumbledore slipped the put-outer back inside his cloak and set off down the street toward number four, where he sat down on the wall next to the cat. He didn't look at it, but after a moment he spoke to it.

"Fancy seeing you here, Professor McGonagall."

He turned to smile at the tabby, but it had gone. Instead he was smiling at a rather severe-looking woman who was wearing square glasses exactly the shape of the markings the cat had had around its eyes. She, too, was wearing a cloak, an emerald one. Her black hair was drawn into a tight bun. She looked distinctly ruffled. "How did you know it was me?" she asked.

"My dear Professor, I've never seen a cat sit so stiffly."

"You'd be stiff if you'd been sitting on a brick wall all day," said Professor McGonagall.

"All day? When you could have been celebrating? I must have passed a dozen feasts and parties on my way here."

Professor McGonagall sniffed angrily.

"Oh yes, everyone's celebrating, all right," she said impatiently. "You'd think they'd be a bit more careful, but no - even the Muggles have noticed something's going on. It was on their news."

She jerked her head back at the Dursley's dark living-room window. "I heard it. Flocks of owls... shooting stars... well, they're not completely stupid. They were bound to notice something. Shooting stars down in Kent - I'll bet that was Dedalus Diggle. He never had much sense."

"You can't blame them," said Dumbledore gently. "We've had precious little to celebrate for elven years."

"I know that," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "But that's no reason to lose our heads. People are being downright careless, out on the streets in broad daylight, not even dressed in Muggle clothes, swapping rumors," She threw a sharp, sideways glance at Dumbledore here, as though hoping he was going to tell her something, but he didn't, so she went on. "A fine thing it would be if, on the very day You-Know-Who seems to have disappeared at last, the Muggles found out about us all. I suppose he really _has _gone, Dumbledore?"

"It certainly seems so," said Dumbledore. "We have much to be thankful for. Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"A _what?_"

"A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of."

"No, thank you," said Professor McGonagall coldly, as though she didn't think that this was the moment for lemon drops. "As I say, even if You-Know-Who _has_ gone –"

"My dear Professor, surely a sensible person like yourself can call him by his name? All this 'You-Know-Who' nonsense - for elven years I have been trying to persuade people to call him by his proper name: _Voldemort."_

Professor McGonagall flinched, but Dumbledore, who was unsticking two lemon drops, seemed not to notice. "It all gets so confusing if we keep saying 'You-Know-Who.' I never have seen any reason to be frightened of saying Voldemort's name."

"I know you haven't," said Professor McGonagall, sounding half exasperated, half admiring. "But you're different. Everyone knows you're the only one You-Know- oh, alright, _Voldemort, _was frightened of."

"You flatter me," said Dumbledore calmly. "Voldemort had powers I will never have."

"Only because you're too - well _noble_ to use them."

"It's lucky it's dark. I haven't blushed so much since Madam Pomfrey told me she liked my new earmuffs."

Professor McGonagall short a sharp look at Dumbledore and said, "The owls are nothing next to the _rumors _that are flying around. You know what they're saying? About why he's disappeared? About what finally stopped him?

It seemed that Professor McGonagall had reached the point she was most anxious to discuss, the real reason she had been waiting on a cold, hard wall all day, for neither as a cat nor a woman had she fixed Dumbledore with such a piercing stare as she did now. It was plain that whatever "everyone" was saying, she was not going to believe it until Dumbledore told her it was true. Dumbledore, however, was choosing another lemon drop and did not answer.

"What they're _saying,_" she pressed on, "is that last night Voldemort turned up in Godric's Hollow. He went to find the Potters. The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are - are - that they're - _dead,_"

Dumbledore bowed his head. Professor McGonagall gasped.

"Lily and James... I can't believe it... I don't want to believe it... oh, Albus..."

Dumbledore reached out and patted her on the shoulder. "I know... I know..." he said heavily.

Professor McGonagall's voice trembled as she went on. "That's not all. They're saying he tried to kill the Potter's son, Harry. But he couldn't. He couldn't kill that little boy, and so he couldn't reach the little girl either. No one knows why, or how, but they're saying that when he couldn't kill Harry Potter, Voldemort's power somehow broke - and that's why he's gone."

Dumbledore nodded glumly.

"It's - it's _true_?" faltered Professor McGonagall. "After all he's done... all the people he's killed... he couldn't kill a little boy? It's just astounding... of all things to stop him... but how in the name of heaven did Harry survive?"

"We can only guess." said Dumbledore. "We may never know."

Professor McGonagall pulled out a lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes beneath her spectacles. Dumbledore gave a great sniff as he took a golden watch from his pocket and examined it. It was a very odd watch. It had twelve hands but no numbers, instead, little planets were moving around the edge. It must have made sense to Dumbledore, though, because he put it back in his pocket and said, "Hagrid's late. I suppose it was he who told you I'd be here, by the way?"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall. "And I don't suppose you're going to tell me _why_ you're here, of all places?"

"I've come to bring Harry and his sister to their aunt and uncle. They're the only family they have left now."

"You don't mean - you _can't_ mean the people who live _here_?" cried Professor McGinagall, jumping to her feet and pointing at number four. "Dumbledore - you can't. I've been watching them all day. You couldn't find two people who are less like us. And they've got this son - I saw him kicking his mother all the way up the street, screaming for sweets. Harry and Scarlet Potter can't come and live here!

"It's the best place for them," said Dumbledore firmly. "His aunt and uncle will be able to explain everything to him when he's older. I've written them a letter."

"A letter?" repeated Professor McGonagall faintly, sitting back down on the wall. "Really, Dumbledore, you think you can explain all this in a letter?

These people will never understand them! He'll be famous and his sister as well - a legend - I wouldn't be surprised if today was known as Harry and Scarlet Potter day in the future - there will be books written about the twins - every child in our world will know their names!"

"Exactly." said Dumbledore, looking very seriously over the top of his half-moon glasses. "It would be enough to turn any child's head. Famous before they could even walk and talk! Famous for something they won't even remember! Can you see how much better off they'll be, growing up away from all that until they're ready to take it?"

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, changed her mind, swallowed, and then said, "Yes - yes, you're right, of course. But how are the twins getting here, Dumbledore?" She eyed his cloak suddenly as though she thought he might be hiding Harry and Scarlet underneath it.

"Hagrid's bringing them."

"You think it - _wise_ - to trust Hagrid with something as important as this?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not saying his heart isn't in the right place," said Professor McGonagall grudgingly, "but you can't pretend he's not careless. He does tend to - what was that?"

A low rumbling sound had broken the silence around them. It grew steadily louder as they looked up and down the street for some sign of a headlight; it swelled to a roar as they both looked up at the sky - and a huge motorcycle fell out of the air and landed on the road in front of them.

If the motorcycle was huge, it was nothing compared to the man astride it. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. He looked simply too big to be allowed airborne, and so _wild_ - long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of trash can lids, and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets.

"Hagrid," said Dumbledore, sounding relieved. "At last. And where did you get that motorcycle?"

"Borrowed it, Professor Dumbledore, sir," said the giant, climbing carefully off the motorcycle as he spoke. "Young Sirius Black lent it to me. I've got 'em, sir."

"No problems, were there?"

"No, sir - house was almost destroyed, but I got 'em out all right before the Muggles stared swarmin' around. Harry fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol, Scarlet was asleep from the beginning, woke up round Bristol, and went back to sleep."

Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall bent forward over the bundle of blankets. Inside, just visible, was a baby boy and girl, fast asleep. Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning. Looking beneath the bangs of the little girl was a similar marking.

"Is that where - ?" whispered Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "They'll have that scar forever."

"Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"

"Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy. I have one myself above my left knee that is a perfect map of the London Underground. Well - give them here, Hagrid - we'd better get this over with."

"But wait!" McGonagall cried as a thought struck her.

"Yes Minerva?" Dumbledore asked.

"Where did Scarlet … I mean, if Voldemort hadn't touched her …"

"Yes that is quite odd. It must be a link of sorts," he concluded.

"But isn't that rare, even in magical twins?" she asked.

"Are these two not rare?" he countered kindly. She nodded as she gave up.

Dumbledore took Harry (who was holding his sister in his sleep) and Scarlet in his arms and turned toward the Dursley's house.

"Could I - could I say good-bye to 'em, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and Scarlet and gave them what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.

"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "You'll wake the Muggles!"

"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it - Lily an' James dead - an' poor little Harry and Scarlet off ter live with Muggles -"

"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hadrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid the twins gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside their blankets, and then came back to the other two. For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle, Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.

"Well," said Dumbledore finally, "that's that. We've no business staying here. We may as well go and join the celebrations."

"Yeah," said Hagrid in a very muffled voice, "I best get this bike away. G'night, Professor McGonagall - Professor Dumbledore, sir."

Wiping his streaming eyes on his jacket sleeve, Hagrid swung himself onto the motorcycle and kicked the engine into life; with a roar it rose into the air and off into the night.

"I shall see you soon, I expect, Professor McGonagall, " said Dumbledore, nodding to her. Professor McGonagall blew her nose in reply.

Dumbledore turned and walked back down the street. On the corner he stopped and took out the silver put-outer. He clicked it once, and twelve balls of light sped back to their street lamps so that Privet Drive glowed suddenly orange and he could make out a tabby cat slinking around the corner at the other end of the street. He could just see the bundle of blankets on the step of number four.

"Good luck, Harry and Scarlet Potter," he murmured. He turned on his heel and with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. Scarlet Potter curled herself up tightly, breathing heavily. One small hand closed on the letter beside him, the other closed on the small hand behind him, and they slept on, not knowing they were special, not knowing they were famous, not knowing they would be woken in a few hours' time by Mrs. Dursley's scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that they would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by their cousin Dudley... They couldn't know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Harry and Scarlet Potter - the twins who lived!"


	2. The Vanishing Glass

_**Hey everybody! IT'S ALMOST CHRISTMAS! EEEEEK! TOMORROW IS LOUIS' 21ST BIRTHDAY! I'M BACK BY THE WAY. I went on a Wattpad craze. 1D fanfics. Don't ask. So, another thing, I went on a bit of a crazy mental-ness. This whole Taylor Swift and Harry thing has really messed with my head. She's just the devil incarnate. I wasn't a fan before the Haylor shit. So really, her getting with Harry has just made me dislike her more.**_

_**"I won't date older women anymore." "I like brunettes." "Taylor Swift isn't my type."**_

_**Harry you're a liar. I still love you, which I can't really explain. Just... Gods why did you lie to us?**_

**Okay, I'm going to stop ranting to you guys. Like, IGNORE MY HARRY RANT! So, on with the story. I'm on break, so I can at least get them to Diagon Alley before I have to go back to school January 2nd. My dad is talking to me and I'm not paying attention. Oh... one more thing... I'm going to audition for the 2013 X Factor. Scared. If, by some wierdness, I get accepted, we all know there will be like no updates. Ever. Til it's over. Idk! BLAME MY FIRENDS FOR MAKING ME GO! The audition is in 4 months. I must prepare. Ugh, why won't they let me chicken out in peace?**

**TO THE STORY!**

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><p><strong><span>The Potter Twins and the Sorcerer's Stone<span>**

**The Vanishing Glass**

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><p>Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their niece and nephew on the front step, but Privet Drive had hardly changed at all. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys' front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets- but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. The room held no sign at all that another boy, or a young <em>girl<em>, lived in the house, too.

Yet, Harry and Scarlet Potter stilled lived there, asleep at the moment, but not for long. Their Aunt Petunia was awake and it was her shrill voice that made the first noise of the day.

"Up! Get up! Now!"

Harry woke with a start. His aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" she screeched.

Harry heard her walking back toward the kitchen and then the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. He rolled onto his back and tried to remember the dream he had been dreaming. It had been a good one. There had been a flying motorcycle in it. He had a funny feeling he'd had the same dream before.

His aunt was back outside the door.

"Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Harry.

"Well, get a move on, I want you two to look after the bacon and the eggs. And don't you dare let either burn, I want everything perfect on Duddy's birthday."

Harry groaned.

"What did you say?" his aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing..."

Dudley's birthday – how could he have forgotten. Harry got slowly out of bed (after crawling over his sister's sleeping form) and started looking for socks. He found a pair under his bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept.

When he was dressed he reached over and poked his sister.

"Scar," he said as he poked her again, "wake up."

Silence. He began to shake her.

"Come on, wake up will you?"

*What do you _want_?* she growled in his head. See, they were seen as strange enough by what people knew about them. What they didn't know was that the twins had been able to communicate mentally for as long as they could remember. They had decided to keep that bit to themselves to avoid further trouble.

"Get up," he said to her. She sighed before sitting up in their small bed, and she let out a mental squeak when she saw a spider on her arm. She had never gotten used to them, being deathly afraid of them and their 'freaky furry pointy legs and the creepy eight eyes'.

*_Get it off! Get it off!*_ she shrieked as she shook in her spot. Harry plucked the spider from her arm and let it run off. She shook some more before shaking her head and rolling her shoulders. She looked at him. *Thanks.*

"Yeah, now get dressed. I'll go take care of the bacon," he said. She nodded before silently shooing him out of the cupboard so that she could change. The thing about his sister was that she never spoke. Even as a baby she never uttered a word. Not out loud anyway.

It had gotten her in trouble more than enough times but after a while people gave up and called her _The Mute_. Harry was the only one who ever heard her voice (in his head), besides her, and he didn't mind it. After all, it wasn't like they had anybody pleasant to speak with besides each other.

Harry went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike.

Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to Harry, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise – unless of course it involved punching somebody.

Dudley's favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn't often catch him. Harry didn't look it, but he was very fast. Dudley didn't bother with hurting Scarlet; that was aunt Petunia's job.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but the twins had always been small and skinny for their age.

Harry looked even smaller skinner then he really was because all he had to wear were old clothes of Dudley's and Dudley was about four times bigger than he was. Scarlet got new clothing only when she absolutely needed them. The last time she got new clothing was when she had been nine. She had managed to stretch her clothing to make them last longer as shopping trips with aunt Petunia were, in her words, the seventh circle of hell itself.

Harry had a thin face, knobby knees, black hair, and bright green eyes. Harry wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all times Dudley had punched him on the nose. The only thing Harry liked about his own appearance was a very thin scar on his forehead that was shaped like a bolt of lightning.

Scarlet had a small frame, being two inches shorter than her brother, and she had the same black hair he did. She had high cheekbones, hair that reached down to her mid-back, and a scar like a lightning bolt on her forehead, toward her right, hidden by her bangs. She never really liked the scar like her brother did. The one difference between the two, excusing gender, was their eyes. Her eyes were shining hazel, dominated by flecks of gold.

They'd had had it as long as they could remember, and the first question Harry could ever remember asking his Aunt Petunia was how he and his sister had gotten it.

"In the car crash when your parents had died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

Don't ask questions – that was the first rule for a quiet life with the Dursleys.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon. "Comb your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting. About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted at Harry need a haircut. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his hair simply grew that way – all over the place.

His sister was lucky enough to have long girl hair because she could just swoop it into a bun and pull her bangs behind her ear. Girls, why do they get all of the advantages?

Scarlet entered the kitchen silently, moving over to the eggs as she ruffled her brother's messy raven hair. She grinned at him and he could easily hear her thoughts.

*I swear the day that jungle is cut-able without regrowth is the day the wigged-pig learns to fly.* He shot her an amused smile before turning back to the bacon.

Scarlet finished frying the eggs as Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much nick, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. Aunt Petunia often said that Dudley looked like a baby angel – Harry often said that Dudley looked like a pig in a wig.

Harry put the plates of bacon on the table before letting Scarlet shovel eggs onto each one, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year."

*I'm surprised he could count passed ten,* Scarlet murmured as she nibbled on some eggs.

"Darling, you haven't counted Auntie Marge's present, see, it's here under this one from mommy and daddy."

*I'm surprised he can count at all without using all of his fingers and toes,* Harry thought back, making his sister choke on her eggs as she tried to keep from laughing.

"Alright, thirty-seven then," said Dudley, going red in the face. The twins, who could see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down their eggs and bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over.

Aunt Petunia obviously sensed danger, too, because she said quickly, "And we'll buy you another two new presents while we're out today. How's that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that alright?"

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, "So I'll have thirty... thirty..."

*Why does this not surprise me?* Harry thought. Scarlet shot him a grin.

*Because he can't count any higher than the number of presents he got last year. He's not a learner if you haven't noticed.*

Harry bit his lip to avoid laughing. *I've noticed.*

"Thirty-nine, sweetums," said Aunt Petunia.

"Oh," Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. "All right then."

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

"Little tyke want's his money worth, just like his father. 'Atta boy, Dudley!" He ruffled Dudley's hair. Scar looked at her brother and they simultaneously pretended to gag behind the wall of presents.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while the twins and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR.

He was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back from the telephone looking angry and worried.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take them."

She jerked her head in Harry and Scarlet's direction.

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror, but Harry and Scarlet's hearts gave a leap. Every year on Dudley's birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Every year, Harry and Scarlet were left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Harry hated it there. The whole house smelled of cabbage and Mrs. Figg made them look at photographs of all the cat's she'd ever owned. Scarlet had tried to jump out of the window once.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at the twins as though they'd planned this. The twins knew they ought to feel sorry that Mrs. Figg had broken her leg, but it wasn't easy when they reminded themselves it would be a whole year before they had to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws, and Tufty again.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy and after what the girl did she won't even go near her."

The Dursley often spoke about Harry and Scarlet like this, as though they weren't there – or rather, as though they were something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

"What about what's-her-name, your friend, Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," Snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave us here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer, and Scarlet could make them something great as she's always wanted to). Aunt Petunia looked as though she just swallowed a lemon.

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, as Scar grumpily thought *I'm not going to set any fires again!* but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take them to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "... and leave them in the car..."

"That car's new, they're not sitting in it alone..."

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't really crying – it had been years since he'd really cried – but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, mummy won't let them spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I... don't... want... them... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "They always sp-spoil everything!" he shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang - "oh, good lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically – and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people's arms behind their backs while Dudley hits them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Half an hour later, Harry, who couldn't believe his luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursley's car with Piers, Dudley, and Scarlet –who was screaming in her head because Piers kept touching her-, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his and Scar's life. His aunt and uncle hadn't been able to think of anything else to do with them, but before they'd left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside. Aunt Petunia had spoken to Scar in the house.

"Girl, if you do anything, _anything_, you will regret ever being born!" Aunt Petunia hissed in Scarlet's face. Scar resisted the urge to roll her eyes or scream in her aunt's face.

_Not _my _fault that stupid fire started last time_, she thought bitterly. _Blame the stove. I never do anything, let alone on purpose. Yet _nobody _listens! _Like they ever did.

"I'm warning you," Uncle Vernon had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry's, "I'm warning you now boy – any funny business, anything at all – and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"I'm not going to do anything," said Harry, "honestly..."

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe him. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around Harry and Scarlet and it was just no good telling the Dursley they didn't make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn't been at all, had taken a pair kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left "to hide that horrible scar." Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he already was laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Scar simply sat there staring at him, telling him it would all be alright. She kept saying this would seem like just a bad dream by morning.

Next morning, however, Harry had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. Scar had grinned at him triumphantly, still in the same spot she had been last night.

Harry had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain how it had grown back so quickly. Scar ended up setting fire to Aunt Petunia's sweater in the drier the same day and landed herself two weeks in the cupboard. She had grinned at her aunt when she received her slap and punishment, telling her brother it was fun to see the horrid excuse for clothing burn.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force Harry into a revolting old sweater of Dudley's (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn't fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to his great relief, Harry wasn't punished.

On the other hand, he'd gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley's gang had been chasing him as usual when, as much to Harry's surprise as anyone else's, there he was sitting on the chimney.

The Dursleys had received a very angrily letter from Harry's headmistress telling them Harry had been climbing school buildings. But all he'd tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his cupboard) was jump behind the big trashcans outside the kitchen doors. Harry supposed that the wind must have caught him in mid-jump.

His sister had gotten a suspension for damaging the pipes in the girl's lavatory, nearly flooding the entire second floor of the school. She'd gotten a month in the cupboard and that time she hadn't been grinning. She'd been screaming threats in her head saying she was going to flood the entire house next.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even wroth being with Dudley and Piers to be spending the day somewhere that wasn't school, the cupboard, or Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Scarlet, the bank, Harry, the neighbors, and Scarlet were just a few of his favorite subjects.

This morning, it was motorcycles.

"... roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

"I had a dream about a motorcycle," said Harry, remembering suddenly. His sister looked at him, having had the same dream. "It was flying."

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: "MOTORCYCLES DON'T FLY!"

Scarlet blinked. Dudley and Piers sniggered.

"I know they don't," said Harry. "It was only a dream."

But he wished he hadn't said anything. If there was one thing the Dursleys hated even more than his asking question, it was talking about anything acting an a way it shouldn't, no matter if it was in a dream or even a cartoon – they seemed to think he, and his sister especially, might get dangerous ideas.

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursley brought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked the twins what they wanted before they could hurry them away, they bought the twins a cheap lemon ice pop to share.

It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond. Harry tipped the ice pop in his sister's direction and she bit the top off to avoid passing it back and forth.

Harry and Scarlet had the best morning they'd had in a long time. Harry was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys so that Dudley and Piers, who were starting to get bored with the animals by lunchtime, wouldn't fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him.

Scarlet walked along slowly, staring at the animals and thinking about letting some loose. It wasn't nice to cage things up for the benefit of others.

They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and the twins were allowed to finish the first.

Harry felt, afterward, that he should have known it was all too good to last. Scarlet had zoned out during lunch, then told him to watch out for the reptiles.

After lunch they went to the reptile house, where Scar got fidgety. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all long the wall. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can – but at the moment it didn't look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned. He shuffled away.

*This is cruel,* Scarlet murmured as she approached the snake.

Harry moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself – no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia hammering on the door to wake you up; at least the twins got to visit the rest of the house.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with Scarlet and Harry's.

It winked. Scarlet paled. Harry stared. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked, too. His sister waved at the snake, still somewhat pale. The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave them a look that said quite plainly:

"I get it all the time."

"I know," Harry murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "It must be really annoying."

*It's so cruel to lock you up all day,* Scarlet thought, knowing the snake wouldn't be able to hear.

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked.

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harry peered at it.

Boa constrictor, Brazil.

*Was it nice there?* Scarlet wondered.

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Harry read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh, I see – so you've never been to Brazil?"

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind the twins made all of them jump. "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SANKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DONING!"

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could. Scarlet flinched. _It's happening_, she thought nervously.

"Out of the way, you," he said, punching Harry in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Harry fell hard on the concrete floor. Scar bounced away and sat on her heels beside her brother, looking at him in concern.

What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened – one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

Harry sat up and gasped, the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished.

The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits. As the snake slid swiftly past the twins, Harry could have sworn a low, hissing voice said, "Brazil, here I come... Thanksss. Amigos."

Scar nodded at it, worried. *Anytime bud.*

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock. "But the glass," he kept saying, "where did the glass go?"

*Where do you think it went nimrod?* Scar thought to her brother and the keeper in annoyance. Her brother grinned at her.

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweat tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as the twins had seen, the snake hadn't done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time they were all back in Uncle Vernon's car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. But worst of all, for Harry at least, was Piers calming down enough to say, "Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?"

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak He managed to say, "Go – cupboard – stay – no meals," before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy. Before anybody could say anything, Scarlet followed her brother to the cupboard while making graphic hand gestures at their uncle and aunt without them noticing.

Harry lay in his dark cupboard ―while Scar sat on the edge of the little bed― much later, wishing he had a watch. He didn't know what time it was and he couldn't be sure the Dursleys were asleep yet. Until they were, he couldn't risk sneaking to the kitchen for some food.

*Seven fifty-three,* she murmured to him quietly. He sighed. Sure, he didn't have a watch, but he did have his sister. She always had managed to keep track of time and it was sort of frightening to see just how accurate her predictions were.

The twins had lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as they could remember, ever since they'd been babies and their parents had died in that car crash. He couldn't remember himself or his sister being in the car when their parents had died. Sometimes, when he strained is memory during long hours in his cupboard, he came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on his forehead.

This, he supposed, was the crash, though he couldn't imagine where all the green light came from. He couldn't remember his parents at all.

Scarlet couldn't feel the pain, and there was no green flash for her. She couldn't remember her parents. All she could remember was a lady there, a lady with black hair and terrified hazel eyes. Last she had heard, her mom had had green eyes like Harry's.

Their aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and of course the twins were forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of their parents in the house.

Scarlet would become saddened from time to time when she thought of how long they'd have to be stuck with the Dursleys. When they had been younger, Harry had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relation coming to take the twins away, but it never happened; the Dursleys were their only family. Yet sometimes he thought (or maybe hoped) that strangers in the street seemed to know him and his sister. Very strange strangers they were, too.

A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to them once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking Harry furiously if he or Scarlet knew the man, Aunt Petunia rushed them out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed in green had waved merrily at the twins once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken his hand in the street the other day then kissed his sister's hand, and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second Harry or Scarlet tried to get a closer look.

At school, the twins had no one but each other. Everybody knew that Dudley's gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley's gang. Nobody liked to talk to a mute either.

* * *

><p><strong>ANYONE CARE TO REVIEW THIS BADNESS?<strong>


	3. Letters From No One

_**IT'S ALMOST CHRISTMAS! TOMORROW IS LOUIS' 21ST BIRTHDAY! **_

**TO THE STORY!**

* * *

><p><strong><span>The Potter Twins and the Sorcerer's Stone<span>**

**Letters From No One**

* * *

><p>The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started and Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, during the first time out on his racing bike, knocked down old Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.<p>

Scarlet was somewhat sad to have summer roll around. She enjoyed slipping out of her classes after role was called to roam around the school. No teacher called on her, she didn't speak. She didn't make a sound when she moved either. They didn't call her _The Mute_ for nothing. She'd miss spending her classes on the roof drawing or writing.

Harry was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader.

The rest of them were quite happy to join in Dudley's favorite sport: Harry Hunting.

This was why Harry spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where he could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came he and his sister would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in their life, they wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. The twins, on the other hand, were going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harry. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Harry. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it – it might be sick." Then he ran, before Dudley could work out what he'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving the twins at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg wasn't as bad as usual. It turned out she'd broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn't seem quite as fond of them as before. She let Harry watch television and gave him a bit of chocolate cake that tasted as though she'd had it for several years. She let Scar draw. Harry hadn't seen her that happy in a long time.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings' boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn't believe it was her Ickle Dudleykins, he looked so handsome and grown-up. Harry didn't trust himself to speak. He thought two of his ribs might already have cracked from trying not to laugh. Scarlet retreated into the cupboard, drawing.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harry went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. He went to have a look. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water. His sister approached it and tapped her fingertip against the surface of the water, sending ripples through the surface. Looking at her fingertip, it was dripping with grey water.

"Whats this?" Harry asked Aunt Petunia. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

Harry looked in the bowl again. Scarlet dried her finger on his shirt.

"Oh," he said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dying some of Dudley's old things gray for you, and some of her larger clothing grey for her.. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Harry seriously doubted this, but thought it best not to argue. He sat down at the table and tried not to think about how he was going to look on his first day at Stonewall High – like he was wearing bits of old elephant skin, probably. Scarlet glared at him.

*I'm going to look horribler. I'm a girl. If it looks bad on a boy, it looks worse on a girl.*

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from the twins' new uniforms. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They heard the click of the mail slot and the flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Scarlet get it."

"Get the mail, Scarlet."

She didn't move.

"Get the mail, Harry."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke him with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harry dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Five things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and – _a letter for Harry and Scarlet Potter each_.

Harry picked them up and stared, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives – he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:

_Mr. H. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs 4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

_Ms. S Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs 4 Privet Drive_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

The envelopes were thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink.

There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, his hand trembling, Harry saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter _H. _

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke.

Harry went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Uncle Vernon the bill and the postcard, handed Scarlet her letter, sat down, and slowly began to open the yellow envelope. Scarlet stared at her letter, her eyes widening. She began to open it, her face pale, her hands shaking.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk..."

"Dad!" said Dudley suddenly. "Dad, they've got something!"

Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon. Vernon snatched Scarlet's letter, and she seemed to regain some of the color in her face.

"That's _ours_!" said Harry, trying to snatch them back.

"Who'd be writing to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness – Vernon!"

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that Harry, Scarlet, and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read that letter," he said loudly.

"_I_ want to read it," said Harry furiously, "as it's _mine_."

_I don't even want to see it_, Scarlet thought to herself, getting and up going to the cupboard.

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Harry didn't move.

"I WANT MY LETTER!" he shouted.

"Let _me_ see it!" demanded Dudley.

"Out!" roared Uncle Vernon, and he took both Harry and Dudley by the scruffs of their necks and threw them into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between the door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address – how could they possibly know where they sleep? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching – spying – might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want -"

Harry could see Uncle Vernon's shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything..."

"But - "

"I'm not having one, let alone _two,_ in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took them in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited the twins in theirs cupboard.

"Where's our letters?" said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. "Who's writing to us?"

"No one. It was addressed to you by mistake," said Uncle Vernon shortly. "I have burned it."

"It was _not_ a mistake," said Harry angrily, "it had our cupboard on it!"

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling.

He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er – yes, children – about this cupboard. Your Aunt and I have been thinking... you're really getting a bit big for it... we think it might be nice if you two moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

"Why?" said Harry.

"Don't ask questions!" snapped his uncle. "Take this stuff upstairs, now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harry one trip upstairs to move everything he owned from the cupboard to this room. He sat down on the bed and stared around him.

Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor's dog; in the corner was Dudley's first-ever television set, which he'd put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they'd never been touched.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, "I don't _want_ them in there... I _need_ that room... make them get out..."

Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Yesterday he'd have given anything to be up here. Today he'd rather be back in his cupboard with that letter than up here without it.

Scarlet sat on the windowsill, staring in horror at a drawing she'd made earlier. She folded it up before stuffing it down her shirt and leaving the sill to go to sleep.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Scarlet sat in front of her food, fumbling with the drawing from last night. Harry was thinking about this time yesterday and bitterly wishing he'd opened the letters in the hall. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harry and Scarlet, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive -"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. Scarlet bounced up and stumbled upstairs to her room, _the_ folded bit of paper clutched in her hand. Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry's letter clutched in his hand.

"Go to your cupboard – I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harry. "Dudley – go – just go."

Harry walked round and round his new room. Someone knew he had moved out of his cupboard and they seemed to know he hadn't received his first letter. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He had a plan.

The repaired alarm clock rang at six o'clock the next morning. Harry turned it off quickly and dressed silently. He mustn't wake the Dursleys. He stole downstairs without turning on any lights.

*Harry it won't-*

*It has to,* he whispered, hushing his sister's sleepy mind.

He was going to wait for the postman on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall toward the front door -

"AAAARRRGH!"

Harry leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squashy on the doormat – something _alive_!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror Harry realized that the big, squashy something had been his uncle's face. Uncle Vernon had been lying at the foot of the front door in a sleeping bag, clearly making sure that Harry didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He shouted at Harry for about half an hour and then told him to go make a cup of tea. Harry shuffled miserably off into the kitchen and by the time he got back, the mail had arrived, right into Uncle Vernon's lap. Harry could see six letters addressed in green ink.

"I want -" he began, but Uncle Vernon was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes.

*I told you. We should just forget about it,* Scar mumbled miserably as she shuffled past her brother and toward the kitchen. *Any leftover tea?*

*No.*

*Rats.*

Uncle Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't _deliver_ them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock a nail with a piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

*Well _that's _a good thing,* Scarlet murmured as she watched their uncle in surprised confusion.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for each of the twins. As they couldn't go through the mail slot they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no could go out. He hummed "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" as he worked, and jumped at small noises.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to each twin found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two-dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to_ you_ this badly?" Dudley asked Harry in amazement. He looked at Scarlet and she rolled her eyes, stalking past the boys and going upstairs. She had some things to do. Things she didn't speak of. Not that she spoke anyway.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today -"

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one -

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor. Scarlet rushed downstairs and looked at her brother.

*More letters?* she asked, her face going pale. Harry nodded.

*I couldn't get any,* he said, misery in his thoughts.

*Harry this isn't good. Uncle Vernon is about to-*

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!"

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through boarded-up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him around the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

"Shake'em off... shake'em off," he would mutter whenever he did this.

*They're going to find us,* Scarlet would whisper as he did.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he'd missed five television programs he'd wanted to see, and he'd never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley and the twins shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Scarlet sat in the bed she shared with her brother and scribbled out drawings on the pad Ms. Figg had given her, her brow creasing as she concentrated on what she was doing. It wasn't long before Harry noticed she was doing this with closed eyes. Dudley snored but Harry stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering...

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"Scuse me, but is any of you Mr. H. and Mrs. S Potter? Only I got about tw'undred of these at the front desk."

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

_Mr. H. Potter_

_Room 17 _

_Railview Hotel_

_Cokeworth_

_Mrs. S. Potter_

_Room 17 _

_Railview Hotel_

_Cokeworth_

Harry made a grab for the letters but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared.

"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her.

Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon.

Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared. It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled.

"It's Monday," he told his mother. "The Great Humberto's on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a _television_."

Monday. This reminded the twins of something. It _was_ Monday – and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days of the week, because of television – then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry and Scarlet's eleventh birthday.

Of course, their birthdays were never exactly fun – last year, the Dursleys had given him a coat hanger and a pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks, and her a wall peg and metal loop.

Still, you weren't eleven every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling.

He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn't answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he'd bought.

"Found the perfect place!" he said. "Come on! Everyone out!"

*Oh dear god,* Scarlet murmured, her fist tightening around a drawing in her hand.

*What?* Harry whispered. She glanced at him.

*I'll tell you when we get to the … location.*

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.

"Storm forecast for tonight!" said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. "And this gentleman's kindly agreed to lend us his boat!"

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

"I've already got us some rations," said Uncle Vernon, "so all aboard!"

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and fireplace was damp empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon's rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and five bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully. He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail.

Harry privately agreed, though the thought didn't cheer him up at all.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hunt and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

Scarlet sat in the corner, wrapped in her sheet and covering a windy opening between the wood. She stared at the drawings she held and beckoned her brother over.

*You might want to see these,* she said, holding up the black and white drawings. Harry crawled over and sat beside her. He flinched as his arm brushed hers, and her icy touch was felt through the thin sheet. She handed him a picture and he stared at it. What stared back was a larger version of the stamp that had been on the letters they'd never gotten to read.

"When did you-"

*The day we were at Ms. Figg's.*

"But the letters-"

*Came the day after,* she whispered, nodding. She handed him another photo and he saw Uncle Vernon, in surprising detail, with loads of letters fluttering around behind him. *This was from when the six letters came.*

"But he-"

*I know. Next,* she said quietly, handing him a picture of the shack they were currently residing in. Harry stared at his sister, and she handed him one more picture. He looked at it and glanced at his sister. It was a drawing of himself and her. The thing is, this was a much older version of them.

"Why did you draw us?" he asked, handing her the photo. She shook her head.

*I didn't.*

He looked at her.

"But … this is us. We just look older," he said, looking at the picture. They looked to be in their early twenties. She shook her head.

*That's not us. I know it isn't. The man's eyes are Hazel,* she said quietly. He shook his head.

"This is a black and white drawing Scar," Harry said slowly. She glared at him.

"In my head, it wasn't black and white. His eyes were Hazel."

She spoke. Harry was so startled he had to watch her lips as she spoke, to make sure she was actually speaking. Her voice was raspy, as though it hadn't been used in a long time. She cleared her throat and spoke again, her voice taking on a softer note. A note he was used to hearing in his head.

"I know, it looks like us. I can't tell you how, or why, I drew this. I just did. I saw them in my head, and they just sat there like they were waiting for me to draw them. I saw all of these pictures in my head. I don't know where they came from, but when I go to sleep I see them. When I wake up, they just seem to be there on paper. I don't know whats going on but it's scaring me Harry. I don't want to go to sleep."

Harry sighed. This had to be some kind of dream. She couldn't have seen these things before they even happened. Things like that happened in stories. Not real life.

"You think I'm crazy," she said quietly. He shot her a small smile.

"I _know_ you're crazy."

A small laugh escaped her and she bumped shoulders with her twin.

"Go to sleep Harry," she whispered quietly. He smirked at her.

"I will if you will," he said. She sighed.

*Fine. But if I wake up and something's been drawn you're gonna be sorry you made me sleep mister!* she said, crawling over to his spot on the floor and curling into a ball.

*Are you going mute again?* he asked as he set himself down beside her. She shrugged.

*It's easier that way. Now go to sleep.*

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. Harry couldn't sleep. He shivered and turned over, trying to get comfortable, his stomach rumbling with hunger. Scarlet snoozed quietly, wrapped in a ball. Dudley's snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he and Scar would be eleven in ten minutes' time. He lay and watched their birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did.

Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea?

Scarlet bolted awake and stared at the door.

*One minute yes?* she whispered, staring at the door with wide eyes. Harry nodded.

One minute to go and they'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... Twenty... ten... nine – maybe they'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him –three... two... one...

BOOM

The whole shack shivered and Harry sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.

* * *

><p>Review?<p> 


	4. The Keeper Of Keys

_**Hi! Check my blogspot for some news. Some wonders I'm having about Scar. Because really, it does matter. **_

**TO THE STORY!**

* * *

><p><strong><span>The Potter Twins and the Sorcerer's Stone<span>**

**The Keeper of the Keys**

* * *

><p>BOOM.<p>

They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands – now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you – I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then -

SMASH!

The door hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear. "Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry and Scarlet!" said the giant.

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile. Scarlet moved behind her brother and rested her chin on his shoulder, peering at the man over his shoulder.

*This can't be happening?* she whispered.

*Seen him before, have you?* Harry asked quietly, glancing back at her. She nodded, her chin rubbing into his shoulder.

*You have _no_ idea,* she mumbled, squeezing her eyes tight. *If memory serves correctly, he's got one hell of a dog.*

*Dog?*

*I'll explain later. Now pay attention, I think he's talking,* she said cautiously, focusing back on the stranger.

"Las' time I saw yous, yous were only babies," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, Harry, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

*I knew it!* Scarlet whispered triumphantly. The giant looked at her and made a strangled sound of surprise and happiness.

"Yeh look just like her, Scarlet! Oh Selena would be so happy. Now it's not just the names," the man laughed. Scarlet flinched.

"Who?" Harry asked, seeing his sister's lips press into a tight line. The man seemed to wilt a little.

"You're aunt, Selena Scarlet Potter. Your father's twin sister," he said. Scarlet made a choking sound, gripping her brother's shoulders and digging her nails into his flesh.

*No way,* she whispered. *No. _She _was the lady I drew! It was her! I told you it wasn't … but where is she then?*

"O-our aunt?" Harry stuttered out. "We don't have a-anymore family."

The man sighed. "She disappeared the day your parents died. That's why you've been sent here to this lot," he jerked his thumb at the Dursleys. "She'da scooped you two up in a heartbeat had your parents not been able to take care of yeh."

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant, he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway – kids," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here – I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harry and Scarlet_ written on it in green icing.

Scarlet stared at the cake.

*First he says we have an aunt, then he says she's dropped off the face of the planet, _then_ he gives us a _birthday cake_?* she cried in disbelief. *Is he _bonkers_?*

Harry looked up at the giant. He meant to say thank you, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth, and what he said instead was, "Who are you?"

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry's whole arm. He engulfed Scarlet in a hug and Harry thought he felt his ribs crack as his sister let out a sound of protest. Letting her go, Hagrid smiled.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harry felt the warmth wash over him as though he'd sunk into a hot bath.

Scarlet made a strangled sound and moved to her drawing. She then threw them in, watching them burn.

*I've been wanting to do that for a while,* she said with a satisfied smile.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea.

Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry." He passed the sausages to Harry, who was so hungry he had never tasted anything so wonderful, but he still couldn't take his eyes off the giant. Scarlet picked up a sausage and bit into it, making a face.

*Not to sound ungrateful, but he couldn't have brought some bacon instead?* she asked.

*Sounding ungrateful there Scar,* Harry shot back. She sighed, stuffing the sausage into her mouth and eating it.

*Happy?*

*Yes.*

Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, Harry said, "I'm sorry, but we still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I think, if she's anything like Selena, Scarlet knows who I am."

Scarlet hesitated, before nodding. She pulled a page from the back of her drawing pad and handed it to him. He grinned.

"Jus' like yer aunt, yeh are!" he exclaimed, folding the paper and putting it a pocket in his coat. "This one's going up on me wall."

"So … can somebody explain to me what …" Harry let the sentence hang and Scarlet fiddled with a page on her pad.

"Call me Hadrid," the giant said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts – yeh know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er – no," said Harry. Scarlet shook her head, her hair hiding her face.

*I think I drew it once… when we were younger I saw this castle… maybe. I don't know. Should I tell him?* she asked, picking at the page. Harry glanced at her.

*I don't think so. Hogwarts doesn't exactly sound like a castle.*

She shrugged. *Whatever you say.*

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly.

"_Sorry_?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them that should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!" He leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy – this girl - know nothin' abou' – about ANYTHING?"

Harry thought this was going a bit far. The twins had been to school, after all, and their marks weren't bad.

"We know _some_ things," he said. "I can, you know, do math and stuff."

Scarlet sighed.

"I can draw," she whispered quietly.

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About _our_ world, I mean. _Your_ world. _My_ world. _Yer aunt's _world_._ _Yer parents' _world."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode. "DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble."

Hagrid stared wildly at the twins. "But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're _famous_. You two, you're _famous_."

"What? Our – my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?"

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing the twins with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh _are_?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell them anything!" A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told 'em? Never told 'em what was in the letter Dumbledore left 'em? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from 'em all these years?"

"Kept _what_ from us?" said Harry eagerly.

"Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it," Scarlet mumbled quietly, gripping her pad tightly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. " Harry– yer a wizard … Scarlet – yer a witch."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"I'm a _what_?" gasped Harry. Scarlet made a strangled sound, and her face turned rather green.

"A witch and wizard, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' thumpin' good' uns, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's in yer letter."

Scarlet gingerly took the envelope marked _Ms. S Potter, The floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea._ and pulled out her letter. She mouthed the words as she read, and her eyes were the size of girlscout cookies when she was finished.

Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to _Mr. H. Potter, The floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea._ He pulled out the letter and read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) _

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Questions exploded inside Harry's head like fireworks and he couldn't decide which to ask first. After a few minutes he stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl – a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl - a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Given Harry and Scarlet their letters._

_Taking them to buy their things tomorrow._

_Weather's horrible. Hope you're well._

_Hagrid_

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was normal as talking on the telephone.

Harry realized his mouth was open and closed it quickly. Scarlet stared at her letter before grabbing her drawing pad and flipping through the pages, looking for something. Upon finding it, she tore it out and held it to her letter. Looking over her shoulder, Harry saw _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _drawn out on the page. Looking at her letter, he saw the exact same words, just smaller as they were written in her letter.

*Uh… can I ask Hagrid about _this_?* she asked.

*Later.*

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"They're not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop 'em," he said.

"A what?" said Harry, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you two grew up in family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of them! Witch and wizard indeed!"

"You _knew_?" said Harry. "You _knew_ I'm a – a _wizard_? You knew my sister was a – a _witch_?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got her letter just like that and disappeared off to that – that _school_ – and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was – a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had the both of you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as – as – _abnormal_ – and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you two."

Scarlet fainted. Right then and there, she _fainted._ Harry had gone very white. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told us they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that Scarlet's eyes fluttered open and she looked around, alarmed while the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry and Scarlet Potter not knowin' their own story when every kid in our world knows their names!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently. Scarlet sat herself up and looked around, worried.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of the two o' yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, kids, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh – but someone's gotta – yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh – mind, I can't yeh everythin' it's a great myst'ry, parts of it..."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with – with a person called – but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows -

"Who?"

"Well – I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested. Scarlet shook her head. *It's a name of a name. the guy… the guy changed his name.*

*How do you know?*

*A dream. I just saw a bunch of fiery red letters moving around and making a name into … its complicated.*

"Nah – can't spell it. All right – _Voldemort_."

Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this – this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got' em, too – some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, ' cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days, kids. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him – an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway. Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get' em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side. Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where yous was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You two were just a year old. He came ter yer house an' – an' -"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his noise with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad – knew yer mum an' dad, an' yeh couldn't find nicer people– anyway..."

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then – an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing – he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh – took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even – but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, kids. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill' em, no one except you two, an' he killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age – the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewwitts - an' yous were only babies, an' you two lived."

Something very painful was going on in Harry's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of green light, more clearly than he had ever remembered it before – and he remembered something else, for the first time in his life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

Scarlet's mind flashed white. _Someone screamed. A door slammed. Someone was running up the stairs._ _Babies were crying._ _"Mama loves you both. Don't forget that."_

Scarlet found herself crying. She looked at Harry. He was pale, and he had pain written all over his face.

Hagrid was watching them sadly.

"Took yehs from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Scarlet shook her head, trying to pull herself into the present. Harry jumped, he had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, runts," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you both, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured - and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdoes, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion - asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types – just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end -"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley – I'm warning you – one more word..."

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

Harry, meanwhile, still had questions to ask, hundreds of them. He wrapped his arm around his shaking sibling and looked at Hagrid.

"But what happened to Vol -, sorry – I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see… he was gettin' more an' more powerful — why'd he go? Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back. Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you two finished him, kids. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on — _I _dunno what it was, no one does — but somethin' about you both stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at the twins with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Scarlet felt sick, and Harry, instead of feeling pleased and proud, felt quite sure there had been a horrible mistake.

A wizard? Him? How could he possibly be? He'd spent his life being clouted by Dudley, and bullied by Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon; if he was really a wizard, why hadn't they been turned into warty toads every time they'd tried to lock him in his cupboard? If he'd once defeated the greatest sorcerer in the world, how come Dudley had always been able to kick him around like a football?

*Because maybe we _didn't know we could use magic_ until now?* Scarlet asked, thumping his arm. He looked at her, shrugging.

"Hagrid," he said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harry looked into the fire. Now he came to think about it… every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious with him had happened when he, Harry, had been upset or angry… chased by Dudley's gang, he had somehow found himself out of their reach… dreading going to school with that ridiculous haircut, he'd managed to make it grow back… and the very last time Dudley had hit him, hadn't he got his revenge, without even realizing he was doing it? Hadn't he set a boa constrictor on him?

Harry looked back at Hagrid, smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming at him.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard — you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts."

"Uh… I've never made weirdness happen," Scarlet mumbled. Hagrid smiled at her.

"Scarlet, ever seen things that didn't make sense? That's the seer in you."

She looked at him. "Seer?"

"Muggles call em psychics. It's more a female thing, which is why yer aunt Selena had been a seer instead of yer dad James. Her ability helped yer dad get outta trouble back in school," Hagrid said, chuckling at the last bit.

Scarlet's cheeks turned rosy red and she smiled. "A seer."

"Seers are trained early at Hogwarts! They usually excel with charms. Just you wait, you'll do great at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you they're not going?" he hissed. "They're going to Stonewall High and they'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and they need all sorts of rubbish — spell books and wands and —"

"If they want ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop 'em," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's children goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their names've been down ever since they was born. They're off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and they won't know themselves. They'll be with youngsters of their own sort, fer a change, an' they'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled—"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER —" he thundered, "— INSULT — ALBUS — DUMBLEDORE — IN — FRONT — OF — ME!" He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

He cast a sideways look at the twins under his bushy eyebrows.

"Be grateful if yehs didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm — er — not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yehs an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff — one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job."

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" asked Harry.

"Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

Scarlet smacked her brother upside the head. *Rude!*

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.

"You two can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' doormice in one o' the pockets."

* * *

><p><strong>ANYONE CARE TO REVIEW?<strong>


	5. Authors Note About Next Update

Hey everyone. I feel like absolute crap making you all wait so long for the next chapter, so I've got some news. My freshman year classes finish on Wednsday June 5, 2013. So, in honor of that, I will be updating _**ALL IN PROGRESS**_ **_STORIES_ ** on **Sunday June 9, 2013. i swear.**

I hope this makes you all feel a little better, and I'm really sorry for making you wait so unfairly long. I'm so sorry.

Xx.

Pam.


	6. UPDATE LIST I SWEAR IM GONNA STICK TO IT

Guys, I feel like absolute rubbish. I promised you an update what, _three and half weeks ago?_

I'd love to give you a valid excuse, but all I've got is I was working on the next chapter for one of my stories, FIre & Ice, and guess what?

**My computer crashed.**

**It's dead.**

**We've killed it.**

No, really, according to a techy genius I'm friends with, my computer has been lost beyond hope in a sea of viruses. I'd lost three story cahpters I'd done and I actually started crying because I worked my ass off on nice long chapters.

And I lost the Fire & Ice chapter I'd been halfway done with.

So, The chapters I lost belonged to **Percy & Marisol Jackson SoM, Moments, Fire & Ice, and Harry and Scarlet Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.**

**I have to retype Moments, Harry & Scarlet, Percy & Mari, and I have to restart Fire & Ice. On Amethyst Eyes, I think I'm going to tweak that story up and give you the tweaked version along with two new chapters on -thinks about a special date- hm... I'd love t o say the Kalends of July (July 1) but that's way too soon for the nine chapters of stories I need to write and the extra A.E chapter along with A.E retweak. I don't even know what day it is I just know it's Friday.**

Hm. How's about this.

Harry & Scarlet: Kalends of July. You get Two chapters.

Percy and Marisol: July 4th. You get three chapters.

**Moments**: Um well you're like a spoiler alert for the future of the twins because you're the different points in their lives but I think I know what I wanna run with so you get four to five chapters by July 5. That **story shall most likely have a spoiler to Marisol's Future so beware.**

Amethyst Eyes: I shall give you the tweaked version + two new chapters by (gods what is today...? Oh ... um ... June 28?) hm... July ... not 3rd because I have plans with my friend and my life is not dedicated to FF I need to go out and get sunlight because I absolutely hate my steeadily increasing paleness. JULY 10! Because how long has it even been since I've done anything for that story? Must get back into the swing of things with that story.

(_Thoughts) okay now what the fuck else am I forgetting? -snaps fingers- OKAY NOW I REMEMBER_

Out Of Control: July 14 2 Chapters

Water's Will Against Death's Desire: July 17. 3 Chapters.

Okay, if that's nine then that is all the in progress stories yay

I will stick to this. Because now I've got a new computer with no chance of problems and I shall kill anyone who gets in my way because you are all incredibly pissed at me, telling me I've lied, one girl in particular going caps lock with the words LIED LIES and LIAR I almost started crying because I felt so bad. So yup. This update list shall not be defied, I will stick to it, I swear on the River Styx. For real this time. Please don't hate me.

**Potter Twins: Is Going To Be Redone And That Shall Be Put Up ON HARRY POTTER'S BIRTHDAY YAAAAY**


	7. Diagon Alley

**Okay, I understand how pissed off you must be with me. It's been forever. In my opinion this chapter could have been better ut I couldn't come up with anything except the Malfoy thing and the Selena thing you'll see. Oh and the wand thing. But yeah feel free to criticize and yell and be mad at me because I've been crap with updating this stuff.**

**Trty to enjoy the chapter though. Unless it is absolute torture. Then just let me know.**

**Okay. Read on.**

**Xx.**

**Pam.**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Diagon Alley<span>**

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight.

It was a dream, he told himself firmly. I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard.

*Harry,* Scarlet groaned. *Why are you so negative?*

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.

*That's why,* Harry sighed.

There's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn't open his eyes. It had been such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Harry mumbled, "We're getting up."

He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off him. Scarlet let out a breath as the full weight of the coat was pushed on her and she quickly scrambled out from under it. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that."

Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly. "There's an owl —"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."

Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets — bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags . . . finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins. He held them up to his face, examining them. Scarlet grabbed his hand and lowered it, wanting to see too.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Five whats?" Scarlet asked in confusion.

"The little bronze ones."

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

*That owl was so cute,* Scarlet thought absently. Harry simply shook his head at her, still looking at the window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, kids, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. He had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.

"Um — Hagrid?"

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"We haven't got any money — and you heard Uncle Vernon last night… he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

Oh no, Scarlet thought nervously, distracting herself by looking for her sketch book.

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed —"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold — an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Wizards have banks?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding. Scarlet looked up from her drawing, dropping her bit of coal.

"Goblins?"

"Yeah — so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, kids. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe — 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you — gettin' things from Gringotts — knows he can trust me, see."

"Got everythin'? Come on, then." The twins followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew?"

"Yeah — but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Harry still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter — er — speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Harry, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land. Scarlet pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her sketchbook against her legs. She sighed, closing her eyes and drifting off. At least, that's what Harry thought until she started sketching something out.

He began to shake her softly, trying to snap her out of it. she wouldn't be too happy if she found out she'd made another drawing.

*Wha-?* she mumbled, eyes flickering open.

"You were drawing again," Harry whispered, pointing at her sketchbook. She looked down at it and her eyebrows drew together.

*It's not finished,* she said quietly. *I don't know what it is.* Harry glanced at it, seeing a handle. It looked wooden, the beginnings of a symbol carved in.

*Do you want to know?* he asked, glancing at her. Her hazel eyes were clouded with nervousness, but she nodded.

*If I can get back to sleep, or a trance or whatever, wake me up when it's done?* she asked, glancing at the sketchbook. Harry nodded, watching as she closed her eyes and tried to relax.

"Yer dad an' aunt used to do that a lot," Hagrid said offhandedly as he watched the twins. Scarlet twitched, peeking one eye open to look at Hagrid.

"Do what?" Harry asked, glancing at his sister.

"They used t' have them mind talks," Hagrid said. "They could do it too."

Scarlet's eyes snapped open and her lips began to move. No sound came out and she tried again. "They could?"

"Did it all the time, was their way t' keep people outta their heads when they wanted to chat privately. I think they used it on tests too," he said, chuckling. Scarlet glanced at Harry, her lips twitching into a smile.

*Guess we got more than just our looks from them,* Scarlet sniggered. Harry grinned at her, giving her a nudge. Then he remembered a question from earlier.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"Spells — enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way — Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Harry sat and thought about this while Scarlet drifted off again to resume her sketching and Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, he'd never had so many questions in his life.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?"

"Why? Blimey, Harry, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Harry shook his sister awake.

*Done?* he asked, trying to glance at the sketchbook.

*I think so,* she murmured, scanning it before snapping the book shut. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Neither twin could blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, kids? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one?"

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid — here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to SCar so she could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letters?" he asked as he counted stitches.

The twins took the parchment envelopes out of their pockets.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope set

1 brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

*Can we get the course books first?* Scar asked, looking at Harry with wide eyes. He shrugged.

*Ask Hagrid.*

*You ask.*

*It's your question!* Harry shot back.

*And who here does the talking for us?* Scarlet asked pointedly. He rolled his eyes, deciding to tune her out for now.

The twins had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all the twins had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up?

*As if,* Scarlet scoffed.

If Harry hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told them so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn't help trusting him.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

*This tiny mess of a place is famous?* Scar asked, looking at it, clearly unimpressed.

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harry wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he, Scarlet, and Hagrid could see it.

Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered them inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on the twins' shoulders and making Harry's knees buckle while Scarlet stumbled forward a step.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at the twins, "is this — can this be —?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry and Scarlet Potter… what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

The process was repeated with his sister, the Mr. becoming a Ms. Scarlet looked stunned, gaping at him like he had two heads.

Harry didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at them. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, the twins found were shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Ms. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand — I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to us once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!" The twins shook hands again and again — Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Scarlet, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you." Scarlet winced, closing her eyes and squeezing tight, rubbing her temple.

*You alright?* Harry asked, glancing at her. She rubbed both temples, eyes still squeezed firmly shut.

*Fire,* she murmured. *Everything's on fire.*

*What?* Harry asked, letting go of Quirell's hand and turning to face her.

*N-nothing* she said, opening her eyes and shaking her head. She let her hands fall, linking arms with her brother and glancing around somewhat nervously.

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it.

"N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potters?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry and Scarlett to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on — lots ter buy. Come on, kids."

Doris Crockford shook their hands one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at them.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh yous was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh — mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?"

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience… They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag — never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject — now, where's me umbrella?"

Vampires? Hags? Harry's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

*Um … has the lack of air in that pub affected the amount of blood-flow to his brain?* Scarlet mumbled, glancing between Harry and Hagrid. Harry shrugged.

"Three up… two across…" he muttered. "Right, stand back, kids."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered — it wriggled — in the middle, a small hole appeared — it grew wider and wider — a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at the twins' amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

*If you can find it above a trashcan in an alleyway behind a grungy pub, magic must be everywhere,* Scar murmured. Harry nodded, speechless.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons — All Sizes — Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver — Self-Stirring — Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. Instead the twins settled for taking different sides. Harry, the right. Scar, the left.

Their eyes couldn't get enough of any of the things they saw: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad…"

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Harry heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand — fastest ever —"

*Heights,* Scar grumbled, looking back to her side.

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments they'd never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was —

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, the twins noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

*It's a nice poem though,* Scarlet mused, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and the twins made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta the trust left to Mr. Harry Potter and Ms. Scarlet Potter."

"You have their key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals. Scarlet began to sketch, staring at a set of scales that held hundreds of small amethysts.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order."

"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

Scarlet's eyes snapped over to Hagrid and her hand moved impossibly fast over a fresh sheet of sketch paper. The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and the twins followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

*It's valuable,* Scarlet murmured. *Someone is going to try to steal it.*

Harry looked at her, alarmed. *How do you know?*

She glanced back and forth nervously, flipping open her sketchbook with blackened hands and showing him a picture. There was a stone and a 713 was scratched into it. beneath that was a shadow of a man who held a sack like a thief might. Of course she would interpret it that way. Harry swallowed.

*Hagrid's about to go get it, it won't be stolen,* Harry argued weakly.

Scarlet nodded. *I said try.*

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in — Hagrid with some difficulty — and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Harry tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible.

The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Harry's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late - they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

*Can we never do that again?* Scarlet asked, leaning over as she swallowed down what threatened to come up.

*It was fun,* Harry grinned. She reached out and whacked him in the stomach.

*Maybe if you lost your lunch you wouldn't think so,* she grumbled.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Scarlet bolted up as her eyes caught sight of the shiny metals within the vault. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All theirs — it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from them faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much Harry and Scar cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to them, buried deep under London. Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag while Scar grabbed as much as she could (she even stuffed some in her pockets when the bad was full).

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

*Oh no,* Scar groaned, shakily getting back into the cart.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

*If you ever do that again I'll push you over the side,* Scar warned. *That should be an amazing view.*

*Alright, alright, I won't lean over the edge of the fast-moving cart. Happy?*

*Very.*

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

I'm not too fond of him, Scarlet thought quietly, standing as far away from him as she could. She leaned against the wall, scribbling out something in her sketchbook. She didn't want to see what was in the vault. She didn't need to get any more pictures in her head.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Harry was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least — but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor.

Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask. Especially if Scar was there. She would probably throw it over the side if it bothered her enough and that would be very bad.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life — more money than even Dudley had ever had.

*School books? Please?* Scar asked, widening her eyes and letting her lower lip jut out ever so slightly. She looked like a hungry little kitten mewing for food.

*Scar … I don't know where we're going,* Harry tried. *Hargrid's telling us where to go.* She tugged on his shirt, still with the kitten-likeness, silently pleaing.

*Please ask?*

Harry sighed, giving in. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Hagrid beat him to it.

"Might as well get yer uniforms," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, kids, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so the twins entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Rats, Scar thought, letting the pleading slip off of her face. It was replaced by worry, because now they were alone in a wizard's robe shop. She kept close to her brother, but allowed her eyes to stray so she could take a look at everything.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dears?" she said, when Harry started to speak. Scar nodded quickly. "Got the lot here — another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry and Scar on stools next to him slipped long robes over their heads. Madam Malkin began to pin it to the right length while another witch worked on Scar.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry. Scar nodded, watching him.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley. Scarlet crinkled her nose, looking away to avoid being dragged into the conversation.

"Have either of you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

So much for that, Scar thought with a sigh.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do — Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.

*There are four. Like on the crest. One is a badger, one is a lion, one is a snake, one is a raven.*

*A badger house, snake house, lion house, and raven house? I don't think we'd look too normal if we said I think I'll go to the badger house,* Harry mumbled disbelievingly.

*No, no,* Scar corrected, shaking her head quickly. *Those are the symbols of each house. I asked Hagrid some of it last night. He said it'd be good to avoid the snake house.* Harry nodded, looking back to the boy.

He had been watching them silently, eyes hard with suspicion and question. Then he resumed talking like nothing happened between the twins.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at the twins and pointing at three large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage — lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

*Can I hit him?* Scar asked, glancing at Harry. Her fists were clenched and he gave a small shake of the head.

*NO.*

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

*Now can I hit him?* Scar growled, leaning forward slightly.

*No.*

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

*NOW?*

But before Harry could answer either of them, Madam Malkin said, "That's all. You're done, my dears," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy. Scarlet stepped down from her stool and turned to look at him. She shrugged.

"I don't quite like you," she said, causing his eyebrows to go up. "So I hope you don't." Before anything bad could happen, Harry lead her away, watching her in surprise as she returned to keeping silent.

Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts). Scarlet ate her plain chocolate ice cream, watching Harry curiously.

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied.

*Harry?*

*That guy.*

*Oh,* Scarlet paused, eating a bit of ice cream. *You should have let me hit him.*

*Next time, I will.*

They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. Scarlet bought herself special quills that would write whatever was on your mind, even if you weren't holding the quill. When they had left the shop, Harry said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh two know — not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make me feel worse," said Harry. He told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's, Scar nodding vigorously along.

"— and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in —"

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were — he's grown up knowin' yer names if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles — look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what is Quidditch?"

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like — like soccer in the Muggle world — everyone follows Quidditch — played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls — sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but —"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," said Harry gloomily.

*If I see that guy again I'll end up in the bad guys house for attacking him,* Scar grumbled.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Vol-, sorry —You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

*So yup I'm Slytherin if we see him again.* Harry rolled his eyes at her.

They bought their school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

*Can I get some journals?* Scar asked. Harry relayed the question to Hagrid, who allowed Scar to get a leather bound jornal.

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), but they got nice sets of scales for weighing potion ingredients and collapsible brass telescopes. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and gnarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for the twins, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

*I want a unicorn horn,* Scar murmured. *It would come in handy.*

*Why?*

*Pure magic. That's useful for a lot of things.*

*Oh.*

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Harry's list again.

"Just yer wands left — A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Harry felt himself go red. Scar stared at Hagrid in confusion.

"You don't have to —" Harry began, as Scar mumbled out a soft, "Why would you buy us a presnt?"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at — an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'. Yeh can share it."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

*What are we gonna name it?* Scar wondered, watching the snowy beauty.

*I don't know. Something different. Any ideas?* Harry asked. She smirked.

*If I had any, would I have asked you?* she smiled. He shrugged.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now — only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

A magic wand… this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single, spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled.

The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair. Scar stepped behind Harry slightly, peeking over his shoulder at the new arrival.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harry awkwardly. Scar lifted a hand in a silent hi.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry and Scarlet Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes, Harry. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes. Mr. Ollivander's eyes flickered over to Scarlet, who had ducked behind Harry to avoid being seen.

"You look almost exactly like Selena. Same hair, same eyes. She was quite the seer. She favoured an eleven inch ash wood wand. It had a good liking to healing and protection spells." His eyes flicked from her eyes to her forehead, then to Harry's forehead.

"And that's where…"

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

He shook his head and then, to Harry's relief, spotted Hagrid. Scar swallowed hard, fumbling with a piece of paper in her hand.

"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again… Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"

"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.

"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you got expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.

"Er — yes, they did, yes," said Hagrid, shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.

"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.

"Oh, no, sir," said Hagrid quickly. Scar noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid a piercing look. "Well, now — Mr. Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"Er — well, I'm right-handed," said Harry.

"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. He glanced at Scar to see her watching him nervously.

*I'd rather not be violated by a tape measure,* she said quietly.

"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. just take it and give it a wave."

Harry took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once.

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try —"

Harry tried — but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

"No, no — here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere — I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers.

He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls.

Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Alright, now the girl."

The tape measured Scarlet all around while Olivander moved from shelf to shelf collecting wands. Scarlet looked very uncomfortable as she gripped the page in her hand. She opened her mouth to speak but the words wouldn't come out.

"Uh, Mr. Ollivander?" Harry asked, helping her out. Mr. Ollivander looked at the twins, pausing in his search for wands.

"Yes Mr. Potter?" he asked. Harry glanced at Scar to see her point at the page in her hands.

"Scar wants to show you something," Harry said quietly, taking a wild guess at what she meant. He was right, because she nodded and began to unfold the paper she had crushed in her grip. Mr. Ollivander came down from his ladder and peered over her shoulder at the drawing she had in her hands. Harry briefly caught a glance at a charcoal sketch of a wand.

"Ah yes, I know that wand," Mr. Ollivander said. He was gone and back before either twin could blink, a narrow box in his hands.

"Here we are, Miss Potter," Olivander said, passing her a nice looking wand. "Mahogany and phoenix feather, ten inches, pliable."

Scar clasped her hand around the wand and silver and red sparkles fell from the ceiling, coating everything lightly.

"Magnificent," Ollivander cried as he took the wand and wrapped it up. Hagrid cheered for Scarlet and Harry grinned at her.

*Nice job sis,* he thought to her with a grin.

*Not too shabby yourself brother dear,* she said with a silent laugh. Then they heard Ollivander murmuring to himself.

"Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious…"

He put Harry's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious… curious…"

*What does he mean curious,* Scar asked, looking at her brother with an arched eyebrow.

"Sorry," said Harry, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, and the phoenix feather in that of Miss Potter's, gave another feather — just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for these wands when their brother — why, their brother gave you those scars."

Harry swallowed. Scarlet took a step back, shaking like a leaf.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you both, Mr. and Miss Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things — terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. They paid seven gold Galleons each for their wands, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop. Scarlet shook her head quickly as the fresh air hit her.

*Creepo,* she mumbled as she rolled her shoulders.

*More unnerving,* Harry replied.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as the Potter Twins and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn't speak at all as they walked down the road (and obviously Scarlet kept her thoughts to herself); they didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Harry a hamburger which he split with Scar and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.

"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid. He glanced at Scar and she smiled, getting the message. You're always very quiet.

Harry wasn't sure he could explain. He'd just had the best birthday of his life — and yet — he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," he said at last.

*Well duh. You're Harry The Hero Potter,* Scar teased. He threw her a glance that said he wasn't up for teasing and she instantly dropped her teasing.

"All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander… but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry — I mean, the night my parents died."

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts — I did — still do, 'smatter of fact."

"You're going to do great," Scar said quietly, glancing up at him. "I've seen the pictures in my head. Everyone that matters knows how strong you are, and will be." Hagrid grinned at her and Harry just gaped.

"See, she's a seer and she's seen it," Hagrid said proudly, proving his point.

And I'm the shadow, Scar thought glumly. The mute. The twin nobody will see. The seer. Harry Potter's twin. That's all they can think when they hear my name. Scarlet swallowed hard, looking back down at her nearly finished half of the hamburger.

"You're going to be known for great things," Hagrid said to her, catching both twins by surprise. "You won't be a shadow." Scarlet opened her mouth, but the words wouldn't come out. She wanted to ask him how he knew what she felt, but all she could do was stare.

"Yer aunt felt the same way. Yer father liked t' live in the spotligh', and so did she. The problem was, she wasn't nearly as loud as he was. James sucked up attention li'e a sponge! She got all upset one day and had a tantrum! Nearly sent the poor lad through a wall because she felt so small compared t' him. They worked it out, and she stopped feling like his shadow. She realized she was destined for greatness, just like you."

She stared at Hagrid, unable to meet her brother's eyes.

*Shadow?* Harry asked. She refused to look at him, instead focusing on her hamburger again.

*Don't worry, I won't put you through a wall,* Scar murmured, finishing off her burger. She looked up at Hagrid and mouthed a silent thank you. He simply smiled.

Hagrid helped them on to the train that would take them back to the Dursleys, then handed Harry an envelope.

"Yer tickets fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September — King's Cross — it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me…. See yeh soon, kids."

The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.

*Magic works in strange ways,* Scar mused. Sinking back into his seat, Harry could only nod.


	8. The Journey From Platform Nine and Three

**Okay, so I made _this_ deadline on time. I hope you don't get your pitchforks and torches and come after me.**

**Read on.**

**Review?**

**Xx.**

**Pam**

* * *

><p><strong>The Journey From Platform Nine and Three-Quarters<strong>

The twins' last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. In fact, it was a mix of weird and unpleasantly alone. Dudley was too scared of the twins to stay in the same room with them longer than five seconds, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't even acknowledge the twins' existence. They didn't shut them in their old cupboard, they didn't shout at them, they didn't speak to the twins at all. They were half terrified due to the magical part, and half furious due to the blatant display of "rebellion" by the twins when they decided they would take up magic and go to Hogwarts.

Sure, not having the Dursleys breathe down their necks was an improvement in more than one way, but it was kind of depressing to be so left out for a whole month.

The twins stayed in their room, getting used to their new owl and going through their school books. Harry had found the owl a name from one of his school books, _A History of Magic_, and agreed with Scar that Hedwig would be a good name.

Their school books were very interesting.

Harry lay on their bed reading late into the night while Scar lay on the floor finishing a sketch, Hedwig swooping in and out of the open window as she pleased. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia didn't come in to vacuum anymore, because Hedwig kept bringing back dead mice. Every night before she went to sleep, Scar threw the mice out the window and Harry ticked off another day on the piece of paper he had pinned to the wall. It was their way of counting down to September the first.

On the last day of August Harry thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day.

*Are you coming?* Harry asked, shaking his sister out of one of her trances. She looked up at him, confusion clear on her face.

*Where?* she asked.

*To go ask about getting a lift to King's Cross,* Harry explained. Her mouth dropped open into a small 'o' shape.

*Um, should I?* she asked, sitting up. Harry shrugged.

*Well, if there's trouble I doubt you'd want to be there,* he said thoughtfully.

*Are you asking for moral support?* Scar asked, her lips twitching up into a smile. He smiled slightly, giving her a small nod. She let out an exaggerated sigh, pushing herself up.

*If you_ insist_,* she said dramatically. Harry chuckled, giving her a nudge out of the room.

*Oh just go,* he laughed.

They went down to the living room where Aunt Petunia, Dudley, and Uncle Vernon were watching a quiz show on television. Harry cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room. Scar giggled, a grin flitting onto her lips.

*_That_,* she grinned, *will _never_ get old.*

"Er — Uncle Vernon?" Harry began.

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er — we need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to — to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave us a lift?"

Grunt. Scar leaned closer.

*That's gorilla for _yes_,* she whispered. Harry supposed she was right.

"Thank you."

They were about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

They didn't say anything.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don't know," said Harry, realizing this for the first time. He pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket.

"We just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," he read.

His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on our tickets." Scar nodded, pulling out her ticket and holding it up for them to see.

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

*I think it's quite fitting,* Scar grumbled, turning and marching up the stairs.

Harry woke at five o'clock the next morning and was too excited and nervous to go back to sleep.

He got up and pulled on his jeans because he didn't want to walk into the station in his wizard's robes — he'd change on the train. He checked his Hogwarts list yet again to make sure he had everything he needed, saw that Hedwig was shut safely in her cage, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up.

*You are the worst,* Scar grumbled, rolling out of bed.

*What did I do?* Harry asked, surprised.

*You refuse to let me sleep. I've been pent up with excitement since you woke up, Harry. Do you know how impossible it is to block you out?* she asked, throwing a pillow at him. He caught it and gave her an apologetic smile … before he threw the pillow back and let it hit the back of her head. She paused before turning slowly to squint at him.

*Hi,* he said innocently. She mirrored his smile before taking the pillow and whacking him in the stomach. This resulted in the beginnings of a pillow fight before Scar decided she had to go get dressed.

Two hours later, the twins' huge, heavy trunks had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry, who sat by Scarlet, and they had set off.

They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped the twins' trunks onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for them.

Harry thought this was strangely kind until Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.

*Uh oh,* Scar murmured quietly.

"Well, there you are, boy. Platform nine — platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing.

*We're toast, aren't we?* Scar mumbled, glancing around nervously.

Harry's mouth went rather dry. What on earth were they going to do? Because of Hedwig, they were starting to get _a lot_ of strange looks. Scar looked at Harry worriedly. He knew he'd have to ask someone for help so he stopped a passing guard, but didn't dare mention platform nine and three-quarters.

The guard had never heard of Hogwarts and when Harry couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one.

In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Harry was now trying hard not to panic, because his sister was already doing enough of it. According to the large clock over the arrivals board, they had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and they had no idea how to do it; they were stranded in the middle of a station with a trunks he could hardly lift, pockets full of wizard money, and a large owl.

Hagrid must have forgotten to tell them something you had to do, like tapping the third brick on the left to get into Diagon Alley. He wondered if he should get out his wand and start tapping the ticket inspector's stand between platforms nine and ten.

*Harry, what are we going to do?* Scar asked, tears springing to her eyes. She began to cry, like she always did when she was overly frustrated, and Harry opened his mouth to try and calm her down.

At that moment a group of people passed just behind them and he caught a few words of what they were saying.

"— packed with Muggles, of course —"

The twins swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like theirs in front of him — and they had an _owl_.

Heart hammering, Harry pushed his cart after them while Scar followed his example. The boys stopped and so did the twins, just near enough to hear what they were saying.

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the boys' mother.

"Nine and three-quarters!" piped a small girl, also red-headed, who was holding her hand, "Mom, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."

What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platforms nine and ten.

Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it — but just as the boy reached the dividing barrier between the two platforms, a large crowd of tourists came swarming in front of him and by the time the last backpack had cleared away, the boy had vanished.

Scarlet took out a piece of paper and unfolded it, examining it carefully.

"Fred, you next," the plump woman said.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you _tell _I'm George?"

"Sorry, George, dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone — but how had he done it? Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there — and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

_Not possible_, Scar thought quietly. _It's solid brick. We'd get crushed._

*What is it?* Harry asked.

*I think we have to run into one of the barriers_,* _Scar said in confusion.

*Are you mad?* Harry cried. She showed him her picture. A dark figure pushing a cart that was halfway through the barrier.

*It's all I've got. I don't know what we're supposed to do.*

Harry glanced between her and the drawing, then sighed. There was nothing else for it.

"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.

"Hello, dears," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long nose.

"Yes," said Harry. "The thing is — the thing is, we don't know how to —"

"How to get onto the platform?" she said kindly, and the twins nodded.

"Not to worry," she said. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don't stop and don't be scared you'll crash into it, that's very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous. Go on, go now before Ron."

"Er — okay," said Harry. He glanced at Scar. She had that look in her teary eyes that said she was right, but she wasn't happy about it.

Harry pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid.

He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble — leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run — the barrier was coming nearer and nearer — he wouldn't be able to stop — the cart was out of control — he was a foot away — he closed his eyes ready for the crash — It didn't come… he kept on running… he opened his eyes.

"You next dear," the kind lady said, gesturing to Scar. She swallowed, shaking her head. "Don't be scared, Ron will go right after you. Your brother is already waiting. He is your brother, isn't he?" Scar nodded, wiping her eyes and cheeks with her sleeve.

_I swear if I die_, Scar let the though finish there, not quite sure she wanted to know what she was swearing about.

"Thank you," Scarlet said quietly, looking at the mother and son.

"You're very welcome, dear," the lady said with a smile. Scar aimed her cart at the barrier and ran, swallowing hard and keeping her mind away from being crushed like a bug. She hit the wall and squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the solid smack against the wall. It never came, and she opened her eyes.

*Harry?* she asked, looking around nervously. She pushed her hair away from her face, not caring that her scar would show. She threw her hair back in a ponytail, panic starting to set in. *_Harry_?*

*Here,* Harry said, coming up beside her. *Look.*

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said _Hogwarts' Express, eleven o'clock_. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters _on it, they had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. They transferred Scar's trunk onto Harry's cart, to avoid the awkward struggle of getting two carts around. The twins pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat and they passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, _Neville_," they heard the old woman sigh.

*Didn't Hagrid say toads are out?* Scar asked, causing Harry to shrug.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Scar began to squirm, trying to push Harry and the cart along faster. They pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train. Scar put Hedwig inside first and then Harry started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door while Scar tried to help by tugging. Harry tried to lift it up the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

*I'll go see if that Ron boy can help,* Scar said nervously, dashing off. Not a minute later, Harry was joined by two others.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

"Oy, Fred! C'mere and help!"

With the twins' help, Harry got his and Scar's trunks tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you —?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Harry.

"What?" said Harry.

"_Harry Potter_." chorused the twins.

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

*Harry,* He heard Scar start, she popped her head into the compartment. *Are you –"

"And you're Scarlet!" One of the twins, causing her to jump. She hit her head against the door and winced, turning to look at the twins.

She glanced at Harry. *Um … what's going on?* Scar asked nervously.

"Yeah, this is Scarlet," Harry said quickly. She glanced at the twins, smiling shyly. She gave them a small wave before turning back to Harry.

*I feel awkward,* she said simply.

The two boys gawked at the twins, and Harry felt himself turning red. Then, to their relief, a voice came floating in through the train's open door.

"Fred? George? Are you there?"

"Coming, Mum."

With a last look at Harry and Scarlet, the twins hopped off the train.

Scar let her hair down and laid herself out on one of the benches, curling up and cushioning her head with her arms. She smiled tiredly at Harry before she let her hair fall down over her face – her way of saying _do not disturb – _before she fell asleep. Harry sat down next to the window where, half hidden, he could watch the red-haired family on the platform and hear what they were saying.

Their mother had just taken out her handkerchief.

"Ron, you've got something on your nose."

The youngest boy tried to jerk out of the way, but she grabbed him and began rubbing the end of his nose.

"_Mom _— geroff" He wriggled free.

"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nosie?" said one of the twins.

"Shut up," said Ron.

"Where's Percy?" said their mother.

"He's coming now."

The oldest boy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, and Harry noticed a red and gold badge on his chest with the letter _P _on it.

"Can't stay long, Mother," he said. "I'm up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves —"

"Oh, are you a _prefect_, Percy?" said one of the twins, with an air of great surprise. "You should have said something, we had no idea."

"Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it," said the other twin. "Once —"

"Or twice —"

"A minute —"

"All summer —"

"Oh, shut up," said Percy the Prefect.

"How come Percy gets new robes, anyway?" said one of the twins.

"Because he's a _prefect_," said their mother fondly. "All right, dear, well, have a good term — send me an owl when you get there."

She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.

"Now, you two — this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've — you've blown up a toilet or —"

"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."

"Great idea though, thanks, Mom."

"It's _not funny_. And look after Ron."

"Don't worry, ickle Ronniekins is safe with us."

"Shut up," said Ron again. He was almost as tall as the twins already and his nose was still pink where his mother had rubbed it.

"Hey, Mom, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?"

Harry leaned back quickly so they couldn't see him looking.

"You know that black-haired kids who were near us in the station? The boy and girl? Know who they are?"

"Who?"

"_Harry Potter_!" said the first twin.

"_And _Scarlet Potter!" the second twin said.

Harry heard the little girl's voice.

"Oh, Mom, can I go on the train and see him, Mom, oh please…"

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you oggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? Are they really, George? How do you know?"

"Asked him. Saw his scar. It's really there — like lightning."

"She popped in. He said she was her. Her hair was pulled up this time and I saw her scar too! Same shape, same place, everything!"

"Poor _dears _— no wonder they were alone, I'd wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform. Oh, but the poor girl looked terrified, she could barely get out two words."

"Never mind that, do you think either of them remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?"

Their mother suddenly became very stern.

"I _forbid_ you to ask them, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though they need reminding of that on their first day at school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded.

"Hurry up!" their mother said, and the three boys clambered onto the train. They leaned out of the window for her to kiss them good-bye, and their younger sister began to cry.

"Don't cry, Ginny, we'll send you loads of owls."

"We'll send you a Hogwarts' toilet seat."

"_George!_"

"Only joking, Mom."

The train began to move. Harry saw the boys' mother waving and their sister, half laughing, half crying, running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back and waved.

Harry watched the girl and her mother disappear as the train rounded the corner. Houses flashed past the window. Harry felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to — but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

The door of the compartment slid open and Scarlet shot up, falling from her seat as the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite Harry. "Everywhere else is full."

*Not now,* Scar grumbled, going over and sitting beside her brother.

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down. He glanced at Harry and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending he hadn't looked. Harry saw he still had a black mark on his nose.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train — Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," mumbled Ron.

"Scarlet, Harry," said the other twin, "did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then."

"Bye," said Harry and Ron. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.

"Are you really Harry and Scarlet Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded. Scar sat herself against the wall by the door, drawing her knees up and using them as a desk while she sketched something new in her sketchbook.

"Oh — well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron. "And have you really got — you know…"

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled back his bangs to show the lightning scar. Ron stared. Scar pulled her hair back once again, and Ron shifted his gaze from scar to scar.

"So that's where You-Know-Who —?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Ron eagerly.

"Well — I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"What about you?" Ron asked, turning to watch Scar. She swallowed hard, glancing at Harry.

"Um, she doesn't talk,* Harry said quietly. Ron's eyebrows drew together.

"Why not?" he asked, confusion on his face.

*Can I?* Harry asked, looking at Scar worriedly. Scar glanced between Harry and Ron before nodding.

"Scar doesn't like to speak because there's nobody who cares enough to listen," Harry explained quietly. Ron looked between the twins, more confused now than he was before.

"But then how do you two communicate?" he asked.

"We have a twin link," Scarlet said, voice raspy. She cleared her throat, wincing slightly. "Ow."

"A twin link? Since when? Fred and George have been trying to build a twin link since they were four!" Ron exclaimed.

"For as long as we can remember," Harry filled in.

"That's so cool!"

"It's easier that way," Scar said, looking at Harry. "He's the only one who cared enough to listen, so I just kept it in our heads. I haven't spoken this much in my entire life."

Ron watched her, his face thoughtful.

"I'd like to hear what you have to say," he said simply. "So would a lot of people."

She paused. "Maybe they'll get to."

"So, do you remember anything?" Ron asked, going back to the previous subject. She swallowed, glancing at the sketchbook before meeting his eyes.

"A lady. I think she was our aunt Selena."

"Wow," said Ron. He sat and stared at Scarlet and Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

"Are all your family wizards?" asked Harry, who found Ron just as interesting as Ron found them.

"Er — Yes, I think so," said Ron. "I think Mom's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."

"So you must know loads of magic already."

The Weasleys were clearly one of those old wizarding families the pale boy in Diagon Alley had talked about.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles," said Ron. "What are they like?"

"Horrible — well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Hey," Scar murmured, "what about me?"

"Well, would you want more brothers?" Harry asked. She shook her head.

"Then I'd have to talk," Scar pointed out. She turned back to Ron. "So, three brothers?"

"Five," said Ron. For some reason, he was looking gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left — Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

"His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff — I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink.

He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the window.

Harry and Scar didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. After all, they'd never had any money in their life until a month ago, and they told Ron so, all about having to wear old clothes and never getting proper birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up.

"… and until Hagrid told us, we didn't know anything about being magical or about our parents or Voldemort —"

Ron gasped.

"What?" said Harry.

"_You said You-Know-Who's name!_" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people —"

"I'm not trying to be _brave _or anything, saying the name," said Harry, "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn… I bet," he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"I second that!" Scar cried, grinning at Harry who gave her a small shove.

"You won't be. There are loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough."

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back their door and said, "Anything off the cart, dears?"

Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, leapt to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry went out into the corridor.

*Bring me yum yums! I'll pay you back,* Scar thought to him.

He had never had any money for candy with the Dursleys, and now that he had pockets rattling with gold and silver he was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as he could carry — but the woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harry had never seen in his life. Not wanting to miss anything, he got some of everything and paid the woman eleven silver Sickles and seven bronze Knuts.

Ron stared as Harry brought it all back in to the compartment and tipped it onto an empty seat.

"Hungry, are you?"

"Starving," said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. Scar grinned at him and, before Harry could stop her, she snatched up several items. Uh oh. She was bound to get a sugar rush.

Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef…"

"Swap you for one of these," said Harry, holding up a pasty. "Go on —"

"You don't want this, it's all dry," said Ron. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us."

"Go on, have a pasty," said Harry, who had never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. Scar got sugar rushes far too easily so he tended to keep her away from sweets. Yet for once he didn't mind sharing the sweets with them both. It was a nice feeling, sitting there and eating their way through all of the pasties, cakes, and candies (the sandwiches lay forgotten).

"What are these?" Harry asked Ron, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not _really _frogs, are they?" He was starting to feel that nothing would surprise him.

"No," said Ron. "But see what the card is. I'm missing Agrippa."

"What?"

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't know — Chocolate Frogs have cards, inside them, you know, to collect — famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."

Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.

"So _this _is Dumbledore!" said Harry.

"Let me see!" Scar cried, leaning over and trying to look at the card.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron. "Can I have a frog? I might get Agrippa — thanks —"

Harry turned over his card and read:

_ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_CURRENTLY HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS_

_Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Harry turned the card back over and saw, to his astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!" Scar squeaked.

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back. No, I've got Morgana again and I've got about six of her… do you want it? You can start collecting."

Ron's eyes strayed to the pile of Chocolate Frogs waiting to be unwrapped. "Help yourself," said Harry. "But in, you know, the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos."

"Do they? What, they don't move at all?" Ron sounded amazed. "_Weird!"_

"Can I start a collection too, or is it a guy thing?" Scar asked Ron. He grinned at her.

"Everyone likes to start their own collections. The information can come in handy sometimes to," he said, passing her a card. "Who'd you get?"

She unwrapped the card and stuffed the frog in her mouth, taking the card and seeing an old wizard.

"Merlin," she managed, chewing her frog. She flipped over her card and read it before grinning at Ron.

"He's from Camelot," she grinned.

"I've got about three of him. He's a really good wizard from the old days. Take another," he said. She was about to unwrap the package when Harry caught her wrist and paused, mentally examining her while looking at his card.

"Alright," he sighed, letting her go. "Not at sugar rush. Just, take it slow, okay? I don't want you setting the compartment on fire."

"Fire?" Ron asked, astonished. She nodded guiltily, undoing the wrapping and stuffing the frog into her mouth.

"When I get a sugar rush, I go a little mad. Last time, I _set the kitchen on fire_," she said sarcastically. "Really, Aunt Petunia just left the stove on."

"And that set the kitchen on fire?" Ron asked skeptically.

She grinned. "Maybe. Oh look, I've got Circe!"

Harry stared as Dumbledore sidled back into the picture on his card and gave him a small smile. Ron was more interested in eating the frogs than looking at the Famous Witches and Wizards cards, but Harry couldn't keep his eyes off them. Soon he had not only Dumbledore and Morgana, but Hengist of Woodcroft, Alberic Grunnion, and Paracelsus. He finally tore his eyes away from the Druidess Cliodna, who was scratching her nose, to open a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"You want to be careful with those," Ron warned Harry. "When they say every flavor, they _mean _every flavor — you know, you get all the ordinary ones like chocolate and peppermint and marmalade, but then you can get spinach and liver and tripe. George reckons he had a boogie-flavoured one once."

Ron picked up a green bean, looked at it carefully, and bit into a corner.

"Bleaaargh — see? Sprouts."

They had a good time eating the Every Flavour Beans. Harry got toast, coconut, baked bean, strawberry, curry, grass, coffee, sardine, and was even brave enough to nibble the end off a funny gray one Ron wouldn't touch, which turned out to be pepper.

Scar, playing it safe, decided to go through four packs of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum.

"This stuff really is the best," she said through a mouthful of gum. She blew out a bubble, which made the shape of a lion. They stared at it in awe as it charged out through the open window.

"That was cool!" Harry cried. Scar shrugged, opening more gum.

"Guess it's time for more gum," Scar giggled.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy the twins had passed on platform nine and three-quarters came in. He looked tearful.

"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Harry.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him…"

"Wait," Scar said quickly, remembering how Ron's mom had helped her and Harry while she was in tears. "Can I help you look?"

The boy turned, expression brightened slightly.

"Would you mind?" he asked. She shook her head.

"Not at all. I'll be back, Harry."

They left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Ron. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

The rat was still snoozing on Ron's lap.

"He might have died and you wouldn't know the difference," said Ron in disgust. "I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn't work. I'll show you, look…"

He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a very battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was glinting at the end.

"Unicorn hair's nearly poking out. Anyway —"

Scarlet and the boy ventured off through the train, eyes darting around.

"What's your name?" she asked the boy quietly.

"I'm Neville Longbottom," he said quickly, holding out a hand for her to shake. "And you are?"

Scar glanced around quickly before shaking his hand. "I'm Scarlet Potter."

"Are you really?" he cried, startling her. She nodded quickly, hushing him.

"I don't want all these people to start swarming me," she whispered quickly. He nodded, snapping his mouth shut. "Why don't we keep looking for your toad?"

Ron had just raised his wand when the compartment door slid open again. Scar was back with the toadless boy, but this time they had another girl with them. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in his hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

She sat down. Ron looked taken aback.

"Er — all right."

He cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers stayed gray and fast asleep.

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard — I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said all this very fast.

Harry looked at Ron, and was relieved to see by his stunned face that he hadn't learned all the course books by heart either.

"I'll just sit down," Scar murmured quietly, sitting with Harry.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Scarlet Potter," Scar said quietly, glancing at Neville. Neither of them had told Hermione her surname when they enlisted her help.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you two, of course — I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in _Modern Magical History _and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

"Am I?" said Harry, feeling dazed.

"Hagrid was right," Scar said quietly. "We're really famous."

"Goodness, didn't you know, I'd have found out everything I could if it was me," said Hermione. "Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad… Anyway, we'd better go and look for Neville's toad. You three had better change, you know, I expect we'll be there soon."

And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Ron. He threw his wand back into his trunk. "Stupid spell — George gave it to me, bet he knew it was a dud."

"What house are your brothers in?" asked Harry.

"Gryffindor," said Ron. Gloom seemed to be settling on him again. "Mom and Dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not. I don't suppose Ravenclaw _would _be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin."

"That's the house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who was in?"

"Yeah," said Ron. He flopped back into his seat, looking depressed.

"You know, I think the ends of Scabbers' whiskers are a bit lighter," said Harry, trying to take Ron's mind off houses.

"What's the animal for Gryffindor?" Scar asked quietly.

"A lion, why?" Ron asked.

"I have the feeling you'll be in Gryffindor," Scar said quietly. She didn't mention a thing about being a seer, and her eyes warned Harry not to give it away.

"How do you know?" Ron asked glumly.

"I have a way with knowing, apparently," she said quietly. She messed with a page in her sketchbook.

"So what do your oldest brothers do now that they've left, anyway?" Harry asked, trying to distract Ron. And anyway, Harry was wondering what a wizard did once he'd finished school.

"Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts," said Ron. "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles — someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Harry glanced at Scar.

_It's valuable._ _Someone's going to try to steal it. _

_How do you know? Hagrid's about to get it, it won't be stolen._

_I said _try_._

"Really? What happened to them?"

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

Harry turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You-Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked.

"Er — I don't know any." Harry confessed.

Scar shrugged. "I've never much liked sports."

"What!" Ron looked dumbfounded. "Oh, you wait, it's the best game in the world —" And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. He was just taking Harry through the finer points of the game when the compartment door slid open yet again, but it wasn't Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger this time.

Three boys entered, and the twins recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop.

He was looking at Harry and Scarlet with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry and Scarlet Potter are in this compartment. So it's you two, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Scar smiled at him and Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to the twins. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potters. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly. Draco Malfoy turned to Scarlet.

"If you don't recall," she said quietly. "I've already made you aware of my not liking you."

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potters," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up. Scarlet remained sitting, shaking slightly as she snapped her eyes shut.

"_Now _can I hit him?" she asked loudly, causing everyone to look at her.

*Definitely,* Harry thought quickly. Before anyone else could blink, Scarlet had bounced up and allowed her hand to make solid contact with the pale boy's face. She huffed, sitting herself back down as they all stared at her.

Then Malfoygot mad.

"You listen closely, little orphan," he spat. "Don't disrespect those who are above you. You've already condemned yourself to rubbing elbows with the servants and the poor."

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Harry, more bravely than he felt, because Crabbe and Goyle were a lot bigger than him or Ron.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron — Ron leapt forward, but before he'd so much as touched Goyle, Goyle let out a horrible yell.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off his finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into Goyle's knuckle — Crabbe and Malfoy backed away as Goyle swung Scabbers round and round, howling, and when Scabbers finally flew off and hit the window, all three of them disappeared at once. Perhaps they thought there were more rats lurking among the sweets, or perhaps they'd heard footsteps, because a second later, Hermione Granger had come in.

"What _has _been going on?" she said, looking at the sweets all over the floor and Ron picking up Scabbers by his tail.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron said to Harry. He looked closer at Scabbers. "No — I don't believe it — he's gone back to sleep."

And so he had.

"You've met Malfoy before?"

Harry explained about their meeting in Diagon Alley. Scar kept silent, glaring at her sketchbook furiously and sketching something roughly.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." He turned to Hermione. "Can we help you with something?"

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting, have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," said Ron, scowling at her. "Would you mind leaving while we change?"

"All right — I only came in here because people outside are behaving very childishly, racing up and down the corridors," said Hermione in a sniffy voice. "And you've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?"

Ron glared at her as she left. Harry peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

"I'll wait outside while you change," Scar said quietly, disappearing outside. The door clicked shut behind her.

He and Ron took off their jackets and pulled on their long black robes. Ron's were a bit short for him, you could see his sneakers underneath them.

*Done yet?* Scar asked, tapping on the glass to the compartment.

*All yours,* Harry said, opening the door and sliding out with Ron while Scar shut the door behind her.

Once she was done, they all seated themselves and ate a few more sweets.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry's stomach lurched with nerves and Ron, he saw, looked pale under his freckles. They crammed their pockets with the last of the sweets and joined the crowd thronging the corridor.

*Harry!* Scar cried, trying to stay with him and Ron as people pushed and shoved her along.

*Over here,* he said, reaching out to try and grab a hold of her. She caught his hand, allowing him to pull her over.

*Are you as nervous as I am?* she asked, gripping his hand tightly. He nodded, following after Ron and pulling her along.

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and the twins heard a familiar voice: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry? Scar?"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. The twins and Ron were followed into their boat by Hermione.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then — FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	9. SCARLET POTTER HOUSE PLACEMENT POLL

Guys, I'm just going to remind you that there _is_ a poll up on my profile asking which house you'd like Scar to be in. Go vote because that Poll Will Close on **_July 30,_ 2013**, which will be the day before I release the **sorting hat** chapter. I suggest you vote because you never know, if Slytherin wins there could be major twists in Scarlet's side of the story. I'm not telling you which house I'd like to place her in, because I want this to be totally up to you. When I post the Sorting Hat chapter I shall also reveal the poll results.

So yeah, I suggest you go vote because the faster you do the faster you get that chapter.

Happy Voting!

Xx.

Pam


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